Assassin's Creed III: Revolution
by Va1028
Summary: Margaret Cooper is in preparation to become an Assassin under the guidance of Achilles, but when a Native boy shows up at their doorstep, both he and Margaret begin an adventure that will shove them headfirst into danger, romance, adventure, and war. Welcome to the New Age. Connor/OC. Rated T for language and content.
1. Seq 1 - Mem 1 - Stable Boy

**ASSASSIN'S CREED III: REVOLUTION**

**By Va1028**

**-SEQUENCE 1: TRAINING BEGINS-**

**MEMORY 1:**

_**Stable Boy**_

**DAVENPORT HOMESTEAD**

**September, 1769**

The Frontier was eerily quiet, except for the birds in the trees and the water in the lake beneath us. The year was 1769 in New England, and I, Margaret Elizabeth Cooper, at the age of thirteen, was continuing my training to become one of them. My father was one, and he had convinced Mister Davenport to train me, even though Achilles had not seemed interested at first. But he soon changed his mind. Soon, I would become an Assassin.

I was sitting in the kitchen, reading one of the old almanacs that my father had given to me the previous year, _Poor Richard's Almanac_; this issue was dated 1758, about ten years ago. I enjoyed reading the poems and sayings, as some of them were quite catchy, and my secret ambition was to one day meet this famous Richard Saunders.

Achilles walked into the room, the sound of his cane alerting me to his presence. "My dear, you need to stop reading and start applying yourself to your training."

I did not look up, but pretended to continue to read. "And why should I do that? It is quite obvious that you do not want me to learn everything because I am a girl."

"Margaret—"

"It is the truth, is it not?" I looked up at him, snapping the book shut and looking him right in the eyes.

Achilles sighed and moved closer. "You have your father's spirit that is certain. All right, we will move on with your training. But just know that—"

Suddenly there was a knock at the front door. Achilles and I didn't normally get visitors, unless they came during the weekends when I was at home in Boston with my family. I got up and headed over to the window in the Dining Room and I peered out. There was a boy standing there, about a year older than me, but he wasn't, shall I say, a normal visitor. No, this boy was a Native American.

"There is a native at the door, sir!" I said to him.

"Leave it." Achilles huffed and began to walk away.

"But sir—"

The boy knocked again, harder and more urgently, and so Achilles walked up to the door and opened it. "What?"

The boy caught sight of me behind Achilles, and I looked him up and down as he spoke. "Um… I… I was told you could train me."

"No." With that word, Mister Davenport closed the door on the boy.

"Sir!" I cried out. "He was asking for help."

The sound of knocking came back.

"Go away!" Achilles shouted at the door before retreating up the stairs.

"I'm not leaving!" I heard the boy shout from outside.

I briskly followed Achilles up the stairs and found him standing in my room. "Achilles this isn't right! The clouds are moving in and that poor boy has no place to stay!"

"He can go back to the village from whence he came."

"Since when have you been so cold-hearted?"

"Margaret!" His shout pierced the room and I sewed my mouth shut. Achilles had never shouted at me before. "If you see him on the grounds I do not want you to speak to him, do you understand me?" I could only nod. "Good. Now go and begin preparations for dinner."

I did not dare question him, and so I quickly went back down the stairs and into the kitchen, but before looking out the window to catch sight of the boy unrolling his mat before lying down in the stables. My heart reached out to him, and I knew that Achilles would have me hung if he found out I had gone against his orders. But I couldn't help myself. I briskly grabbed an empty sack before stuffing it full with cheese, water, apples, and other items. Then, after wrapping my shawl tightly around my shoulders, I opened the back door quietly before exiting the manor.

The cold, crisp air bit away at my skin instantly, and the fog ahead of me did little to help to guide my way. If I was going to do this again, I would have to remember to bring a lantern. I used my footing and knowledge of the surrounding area to guide myself towards the stables, and was careful to approach the boy with caution. As I arrived, I could see that he was asleep and quietly laid the burlap sack of goods near his head. After I made sure he was well prepared for the morning, I ran as quietly as I could back towards the house where I prepared the dinner for the evening.

* * *

**THE FOLLOWING DAY**

The following morning, the first thing I did was check if Achilles was asleep. His bedroom was right by the back door, but I noticed that the bed had been made and abandoned. I climbed the stairs, careful to life the skirt of my dress so that I would not trip, and found him sitting in the Balcony Room. I quietly glanced out the window to see that the Native boy was gone, the sack open, and his mat empty.

"He is gone, sir."

"Good riddance."

No sooner had this left his lips than the sound of knocking returned from the front door.

"Do not answer the door, Margaret."

"Sir, please listen to reason."

Once again, knocking sounded, only this time it came from the back door. I had to admit, the boy was quick on his feet. "Please, all I ask is a moment of your time—"

Achilles got up out of his chair and opened one of the windows. "I apologize if I've been unclear—or otherwise confused you with my words. It was never my intention to mislead. So let me try to clarify: GET THE HELL OFF MY LAND!" And the slamming of the window soon followed.

"Achilles!" I said; surprised at how irritable he was acting. "He only wishes to speak to you."

"I'm coming up!" The boy shouted from outside, and the following sounds indicated that he had decided to climb up to the balcony.

"Once again, sir, I offer you reason." I pleaded with him. I had never seen Achilles this exasperated about anything, except when his tea was not prepared properly…

The doorknob rattled on the door, startling me. Honestly, the boy was beginning to act like a robber. "Just hear me out!? What are you so afraid of?"

Mister Davenport hobbled over to the door and threw it open, a look of anger and irritation on his face. "Afraid? You think I'm afraid of ANYTHING, least of all, a self-important little scab, like you?" With that Achilles took his cane and threw it under the boy's feet, knocking his legs out from under him.

"Sir, please!" I threw myself at the doorway, but Achilles gave me the harshest glare I had ever seen.

"Margaret, go back inside." I looked from him to the boy and then back to him. "Now,"

I gave the boy a sigh of sympathy and backed away, hiding behind the wall.

"Oh, you might dream of being a hero." I heard Achilles address him. "Of riding to rescues, of saving the world—but stay this course, and the only thing you're gonna be is DEAD. The world's moved on, boy. Best you do too."

I heard his unstable footsteps, mixed with the sound of his cane, as he reentered the room and slammed the door behind him. I stood there a moment before the boy's cries reached me again for the last time that day.

"I will not leave! Do you hear me?! I am NEVER leaving!"

That evening, I was lying awake in my room, thinking over the events of the previous day, when I heard something from out back. I quietly ran over to the back window and peered out to see more of the bandits that had attacked us previously during the week in a fight with the native boy.

I ran down the stairs and held onto the doorway of the dining room. "Achilles, those robbers are back, and the native boy is fighting them."

Achilles calmly stood up and looked me right in the eyes. "Go back upstairs, Margaret."

"But sir—"

"Go," He said, shooing me with his cane.

I stood my ground. "No. Maybe you won't help him, but I'm not cold-hearted enough to leave an innocent boy out there to die."

With that, I grabbed my cloak, since it was raining, lit a lantern and quietly opened the back door. I ran to the side of the house, the rain and thunder covering my movements, and watched as a bigger man smacked the boy in the face with a club, knocking him to the ground. Not thinking, I quickly scooped up a ball of wet dirt and molded it in my hands.

"Hey mud-breath!" I called, throwing the mud ball right into the man's face. He rubbed his cheek which was now covered in wet, soppy mud, and turned to me. I held my breath, not realizing the consequences which my action had triggered. He raised his club, prodded the boy's chest again, and began to move towards me until Achilles snuck up behind him and stabbed him right in the back. I let my breath back out and ran out to meet them, the lantern in my hand shaking.

I met up with them as Achilles helped the boy up, and he thanked him. Achilles then turned to me, "Help him clean this up, and then we shall all sit down for a talk."

I nodded and helped the boy drag the bodies out into the woods where they could be found later. As we headed back, the boy turned to me. "You were the one who left me food, were you not?"

I nodded. "I do not deny it."

"Why?"

"I help those who will not be helped. Mister Davenport would have left you with nothing had I not decided to bring it to you."

The boy shifted his weight and leaned against the stable door. "Your name is…Margaret?"

"Yes," I replied. "Miss Margaret Cooper at your service," I did a small curtsy before tightening the cloak around my shoulders. "And what is yours?"

"Ratonhnaké:ton," He replied.

I did not wish to offend him, and so I tried to say it back. "Ra-doon-a-gay-doon. Did I say that correctly?"

He smirked. "You would be the first."

I smiled a little, glad that I made him happy. "We had better return to the manor. Staying outside in the rain this long is not good for your health."

"Where did you hear that?" He asked me.

"Richard Saunders," I replied with a mischievous grin.

* * *

That night, Achilles spent the entire time explaining the story of the Templars and the Assassins, and their separate fights to save humankind. He told of the ancient stories of the great assassins Altaïr Ibn'La-Ahad from the Holy Lands and Ezio Auditore from Italy, and their successes and failures. The most prominent of course being Those That Came Before; a mysterious race that first appeared to Ezio over 300 years ago by the works of an entity called the Apple. After Achilles had finished his speech, he led us into the hallway.

"Careful," He whispered. "Wasn't a joke when I said this place was coming apart."

"Why don't you repair it?" Ratonhnaké:ton asked him.

"What's the point? Besides I don't have materials for the job."

"So buy them."

Achilles laughed at the thought. "Look at me. You think I can march into some store, purse full of pounds, and go shopping?"

"Yes. Why not?"

"So naïve…" Achilles sighed as pulled on the candelabra that would lead into the basement.

All three of us walked down the stairs and made our way into the room. White-and-blue Assassin robes stood in the middle of the room, and a closet for many more were just ahead. Achilles made his way over the little desk in the corner, while I headed to the larger desk ahead, with the board boarded up by wood.

I heard Achilles' cane hit something and I turned around to see the man scolding Ratonhnaké:ton for attempting to pick up the robes. The boy instantly apologized and Achilles waved him off.

"Very well," He said after circling the boy. "I will train you, alongside Margaret. Then we shall see if the two of you've the right to wear those robes."

Ratonhnaké:ton smiled and nodded. "Thank you…uh,"

"Name's Achilles," The old man did a little bow, and walked over to where I stood. "Come on. We've work to do."

Achilles motioned for Ratonhnaké:ton to remove the board and he did so, revealing the portraits of six known Templars throughout the area; Thomas Hickey, William Johnson, John Pitcairn, Benjamin Church, Charles Lee, and their leader, Haytham Kenway; the Grand Master.

"What do the Templars want?" He asked.

"What they've always wanted: control." Achilles replied. "They see an opportunity in the colonies. A chance for new beginnings, unfettered by the chaos of the past. This is why they back the British. Here they have a chance to illustrate the merits of their beliefs. A people in service to the principles of order and structure,"

Ratonhnaké:ton's tone went grim. "I have seen what is to come if they succeed. They have to die, don't they? All of them. Even my father," He motioned toward the highest portrait.

I gave Ratonhnaké:ton a puzzling look. His father was _Haytham Kenway_? _Grand Master_ of the _Templars_?

"Especially your father," Achilles looked to the portrait on top. It seemed that Achilles was already aware of the boy's identity. "He's the one holding the whole thing together."

We finished our introductions that night, and I prepared a room for Ratonhnaké:ton. He thanked me, and I told him that in addition to his lessons with Achilles, he would have to eventually learn how to read and write, and that I could teach him if he preferred. He accepted, and we began our lessons, meeting every weekday by the curved tree not far from the manor, and he would practice the two days that I was in Boston every week.

So began our friendship. But little did we know of the events that would drive us together.


	2. Seq 1 - Mem 2 - Words Are Wiser

**MEMORY 2:**

_**Words Are Wiser**_

**DAVENPORT HOMESTEAD,**

**December 14, 1769**

The winter snow had already begun to fall, and the ground was coated with a pure white coat and the trees cast shadows that looked like the hands of old witches, trying to grab small children for their cooking pots. However, this did not halt Ratonhnaké:ton's lessons, both with me and Achilles.

I was sitting at the curved tree, reading one of my father's books, _Wonders of the Invisible World_ by Cotton Mather, which was an account of the Salem Witch Trials, which had occurred over one-hundred years prior. It was a shame, for those accused had in reality been innocent, and some had been Assassins.

"What are you reading?" I heard a familiar voice above me, and looked upward to see Ratonhnaké:ton standing in the snow ahead.

I closed the book, slipped it into my sack, and pulled out a quill, ink, and several pieces of parchment. "Oh nothing, really, just a story about just how idiotic people can become."

"It sounds rather interesting." He replied.

I smiled and motioned for him to sit down. "Well perhaps you will be able to read it yourself when we are finished here. Now, then, where did we leave off?"

"You were going to teach me the alphabet." Ratonhnaké:ton sat beside me on the tree stump.

"Oh, that's right. Here, let us start at the beginning."

I took the quill and dipped it into the dark blue ink, and began to flawlessly move it across the parchment, creating several different letters. I glanced over at Ratonhnaké:ton, and I smiled. His eyes were fixed on the feather quill, which seamlessly produced a black trail that took on its own form and shape, creating a beautiful letter. I continued with this until I put the quill back into my sack so that it would not blow away.

"Here, what do you think?" I picked up the parchment and moved it toward Ratonhnaké:ton so that he could see.

He shook his head. "It is beautiful, but I do not know what it says."

A mischievous smile crossed my lips. "It is your name, or at least, how I believe it is spelled."

"You are a wonderful writer." He looked up at me.

I looked away and smiled again at his complement. "Thank you, Ratonhnaké:ton, but I am still learning myself. At this rate, perhaps you will be able to surpass my younger sister by March."

"How old is your sister?"

"She is eight-years-old. I also have a younger brother who was born no less than two years ago."

"It must be loud at your home, then." Ratonhnaké:ton shifted his position in the snow to face me.

I shook my head. "Not really. My father is always in his study, working on important business, so we must be quiet."

"What kind of business?"

"Important news and documents that will give the Assassins here in the colonies a much needed advantage over the Templars."

"I see." Ratonhnaké:ton nodded. "Please, will you write more letters for me."

"Of course," I replied, and reached for the quill and the ink.

I went to dip the edge of the quill in, but it stopped against something hard. For a moment I thought that something was blocking the ink, but it soon occurred to me that the ink had frozen over in the cold. In my mind I cursed my stupidity of leaving it out, but I did not let Ratonhnaké:ton read my emotions.

"Oh dear, it seems that I have let the ink freeze over in this blasted cold. We will have to continue our lessons another day if not later."

"That is a shame." Ratonhnaké:ton said to me.

"Well, perhaps you will be able to return the favor of me teaching you with teaching me how to run through the trees as you do." I began to pack up the supplies.

"Perhaps one day soon." His face rose, and he helped me off the stump. The two of us headed up back to the house, where Achilles was waiting for us in order to continue our training.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, I will admit this, the first few chapters that I have edited here are honestly pretty much in the same writing style as my last account, and it _looks_ like I have not improved. But the last few that I have practically written up and finished are much better. DO NOT ABANDON HOPE IN ME YET MY FELLOW PEERS! Hopefully I will finish Sequence 1 this week, and put up Sequence 2 next week and so on until it is finished. :) I have a tracker on my profile for the number of Chapters I have planned and the ones that have been published. Hopefully this will continue for the ones that I have yet to write...or those that will come to me later.**

**I'm finished now ;)**

**Val**


	3. Seq 1 - Mem 3 - The Massacre

**MEMORY 3:**

_**The Massacre**_

**DAVENPORT HOMESTEAD**

**March 5, 1770, Morning**

_**RATONHNAKé:TON**_

_It had been six months since I had begun my training with Achilles and Margaret, and both had shown generous hospitality to me. Achilles trained me in running, in climbing, in fighting, and in falling. And for every lesson that concerned the body, there were two that concerned the mind. Language, philosophy, logic, and the arts. Achilles taught most often of the Assassins and Templars. Their structures, origins, and purpose. Centuries of history condensed into a few short days. I told him of the men who burned my village. Of Charles Lee and my promise to him. Achilles explained that Lee and his followers were Templars. And that they were led by none other than my own father. If I was to serve the Order, these men would become my targets. So I worked harder. Learned faster. When Achilles was not teaching me how to fight, I was with Margaret learning how to read and write. She was not like Achilles in the sense of her teaching. She praised me often, and helped me through my mistakes. But for all my progress, it was clear that I still had much to learn. My training had only just begun._

As I finished my examination of the Templar portraits, I hurried to meet Achilles outside at the carriage. It was very cold for March, in the early morning hours, and the frost ate away at the bits of bare skin that were not covered by my clothing. As I ran out, Achilles greeted me.

"Good morning."

"To you as well," I replied. "You taking a trip?" I motioned to the carriage.

"I've decided to do something about the house. And you're going to help me. Get in." He knocked on the door with his cane and picked up the reigns.

"Will we not be waiting for Margaret to arrive? It is Monday after all." I asked, curious about her location. Normally Margaret would have arrived by now, courtesy of her father or mother.

Achilles shook his head. "No, we are going to meet her there. Now get in."

* * *

**BOSTON**

**March 5, 1770**

_**MARGARET**_

I woke up early the next morning, making preparations for my upcoming endeavors in the city that day. First, I checked on Marie and Freddie, making sure that my younger siblings were sound asleep. Then, I helped my mother make breakfast and hang the laundry outside the house. We lived just off the streets of Boston in the nearby woods, away from any propaganda that could have torn us apart. That afternoon, as I prepared to leave, I visited my father in his study.

William Cooper was always in his study, writing out papers to his associates and friends, and also keeping the other-few-Assassins in the area updated on our plans and endeavors against the Templars. "Afternoon, father." I curtsied as I approached him.

"Ah, Margaret, what can I do for you?" He did not look up from his writing, but I knew that he was listening.

"I was just going to make you aware that I was going out to the city to meet Achilles, and that we would be leaving for the Homestead afterward." I said quickly, eager to go out and meet him and Ratonhnaké:ton by the General Store.

He sighed and continued to dip his quill in the ink. "Very well; you may go."

I curtsied again out of respect and backed out into the hallway, but I stopped as my father raised his hand. "Will the savage be with you?"

I scowled. "Father, as I have told you before, Ratonhnaké:ton is not a savage! He is a perfectly civilized young man for his background."

"Sorry, darling, I was only curious." He did not look at me, but continued to move the quill upon the parchment. With that, I closed the door to his study, ending the conversation.

I hurried down the stairs and threw on my cloak, tightening it as I ran out the door and onto the path that would lead me to Boston. I always enjoyed walking through the forest. It gave me a sense of freedom and beauty, one that I hoped would always remain here as the years went on. Soon, I found myself on the outskirts of the town and hurried so that I would not be late to meet them. Snow fell and landed on my clothes and eyelashes, the cold sweeping in from the south.

As I arrived at the store, I overheard several men going on about the unfairness of the Stamp Act, which had been passed no less than five years ago. The act was rubbish in my opinion; taxing people who had no say in how or when they would be taxed. I soon became lost in my thoughts on the British and their unfairness towards us, when I heard someone shouting my name.

"Margaret!" I turned to see Ratonhnaké:ton making his way towards me. "Achilles told me to meet you here."

"And here I am." I smiled. "Do you have the list, Ratonhnaké:ton?"

He took the list out of his pocket, but held it out of my reach when I attempted to grab it. "Achilles has asked that you address me as 'Connor' from now on. He says that it will be easier to remember and say."

I laughed a little. Achilles had told me of one other person with that name. "All right then, _Connor_, let's see if you can remember what I taught you last week." I pointed to one of the scribbles on the list. "Tell me what that says."

"It says 'Chair'." He replied confidently.

"Good," I praised him. "Now what about this one."

"'Dresser'."

"Well done," I moved closer to the door. "It would seem that I have taught you well. Come on, then, let us get the supplies that Achilles needs."

We entered the store and I made my way over to the counter where the clerk was, while Connor was drawn towards the warm fire nearby.

"You lost?" The clerk smirked.

Connor's face turned red with embarrassment, and I couldn't help by hide a smile as he put the paper down in front of the clerk. "We need the items on this list."

"The carriage is out by the State House." I added.

The clerk glanced down at the list, and then back to us. "Will you be paying with coin, or trade?" I noticed the clerk's eyes go wide with happiness at the sight of the pouch full of British pounds. Connor emptied it all out onto the table, and pushed the mountain of coins towards him. "Some of these things I have. Some I don't. Lumber's hard to come by since my supplier up and vanished. I have the tools and pitch, though. Nails too. I'll have it delivered straight away."

"Thank you, sir." I nodded, and the two of us left the store.

As soon as I stepped out onto the streets, I knew that something was wrong. Men and women were running down the alleyways towards the Old State House, and British soldiers were holding people against the walls. There was a sense of urgency in the air, and the wind carried change not far behind it.

"Something's not right. We have to find Achilles." I pulled on Connor's thin sleeve and the two of us ran back to the Market square where the old man was standing.

"What happened?" Connor asked him.

"That's what we're going to find out." He began to hobble away. "Follow me."

As we walked toward the Old State House, I saw both men and women alike spitting on the British redcoats as they tried to constrain people into corners and alongside the walls of buildings. A larger group was beginning to gather on King's Street in front of the State House, and a regular was stationed there, addressing the crowd.

"I say again: disperse! Congregating in this manner is forbidden!"

"We're not going anywhere, bug!" A man shouted from the crowd.

Another began to throw rocks. "Oi! Why don't you go back to England?!"

"No good can come of this chaos!" The regular addressed them again. "Return to your homes and all will be forgiven."

"Never!"

"Not until you've answered for your crimes!"

"You're right cowards, pointing guns at unarmed folk!"

"You don't scare us!"

"We ain't afraid!"

Achilles tapped both me and Connor on the shoulder and pointed with his cane. "There!" I looked to see a man with a dark-blue-and-red cape and tri-corn hat speaking with another man with a musket. One look at his face, and I thought I was looking at Connor's reflection.

"Is that my father…?" Connor asked him. I could definitely see the resemblance between father and son.

"Yes," Achilles whispered. "Which means trouble is sure to follow. I need you, Connor, to tail his accomplice. This crowd is a powder keg—we can't allow him to light the fuse."

"But—"

"But nothing!" Achilles snapped. "Margaret and I will remain here and keep an eye on him. Now do as I say and go!" He pushed Connor in the direction of the man, who had begun to walk, and the boy instantly took to the rooftops.

"Sir, what do propose we do?" I asked.

Achilles was silent for a moment. "We wait."

I glanced around nervously, trying to find Connor amongst the chaos which was unfolding along the street. The women and the men in the front were spitting on the ground in front of the British soldiers, and others had begun to throw rocks at them. The next thing I knew, I heard a gun fire off and I searched frantically for the one who had fired it. There was no soul in sight with a gun except for the British

"Damn you, fire!" The regular shouted, and the Redcoats aimed their muskets and fired upon the unarmed crowd of townsfolk. Many dropped to the ground, dead instantly. Others shrieked and wailed loudly. I couldn't help but scream myself as I felt a musket ball fly past my head.

Achilles grabbed my shoulder. "Calm yourself. Do you see Haytham?"

I looked up and saw Haytham Kenway motion upwards to one of the Redcoats, and I followed his gaze to see Connor standing on the rooftops above, Haytham's accomplice dead at his feet. The Grenadier summoned his guards to the rooftops, and Connor disappeared from my sight, jumping from the rooftop to rooftop.

"Sir, he has pinned this massacre on Connor!" I said, my voice shaking from the trauma of the muskets firing nearby.

"Come along, then. We had better head back to the house." Achilles began to walk away slowly from the blood-soaked square, and I followed him closely.

"But where will we be picking up Connor?" I asked.

He shook me off. "Do not worry about him. Now go home, grab your things, and we will be on our way."

"But sir, Connor—"

"Will be fine," Achilles turned to me. "Now hurry and get into the carriage. We have a lot of preparations to see too."


	4. Seq 1 - Mem 4 - River Run

**MEMORY 4:**

_**River Run**_

**DAVENPORT HOMESTEAD**

**March 6, 1770**

I still wasn't ready to forgive Achilles for leaving Ratonhnaké:ton, I mean, _Connor_, in Boston after the Massacre. Thankfully, my mother had agreed to let me stay with Achilles this week, believing that it was better that I stay away from Boston on the looming circumstances of war with the British redcoats. My father also thought it wise. I pleaded with them to let Marie and Freddie come with me for the week, but they refused, believing that they would only cause trouble for me, Achilles, and Connor while we were training.

I was walking outside, along the cliff-side, looking out over the lake, when I noticed a small boat leaving, one that I had not seen before in my life. Then, I turned to the beach where it had docked, and I saw someone walking up toward the house. His walk was vaguely familiar, but I could not pin exactly who it was until moments later. When I did realize who it was, I found myself lifting up my skirt and running down the small, dirt path that lead toward the small harbor, where I met Connor halfway up.

"Connor!" I shouted happily, leaping into an embrace. "I am so glad to see you again."

Connor pulled away and met my gaze. "Where is Achilles?"

"In the house." I pointed up towards the manor on the hill, and he briskly pushed me out of the way. "You mustn't be angry with him." I began to follow him.

"And why mustn't I? The two of you abandoned me." He said coldly, not turning around to look at me.

"'The _two _of you?' I will have you know that I had nothing to do with whatever foolish idea was going on through that old man's mind." I said back.

We continued toward the manor with no other sign of conversation, until we met Achilles in the Dining Room.

"Welcome back!" Achilles nodded, smiling at the two of us together again.

Connor snapped back with a remark. "You left me in Boston!"

"The training we've done here is all well and good, but experience is a better teacher by far." Achilles nodded, trying to use his wise words to calm the boy down.

"What of my father?" Connor was still irritated, judging by his tone.

Achilles glanced at me, and I turned away out of shame. "Into the wind, I'm afraid."

"We have to find him!" I could tell that it would be difficult to change Connor's mind now that he was set at finding his father.

"And we will...AFTER the house has been repaired." Achilles rejected the approach calmly.

"But he's out there plotting who knows what." Connor threw his hand toward the window, and the sun began to creep through, bringing a new light into the room as he spoke.

Achilles leaned closer towards him on his chair. "And what would you do when you found him? IF you found him? You're a boy with a few months of training," He turned to me. "And you are just a young girl. He's a man full grown who's spent decades honing his skills. If you two are going to stand a chance against the Templars, you're going to need these."

My eyes narrowed, and my eyebrows knitted themselves together as Achilles pushed two boxes towards us, one for me and one for Connor. I recognized Connor's box from Achilles' room, but I didn't recognize mine. On the top was an engraving: _Nothing is true; everything is permitted_, followed by the Assassin symbol. As I clicked the box open, my eyes went wide. Inside, was a hidden blade, and not just any hidden blade, but my own _father's_ hidden blade.

I smiled widely and glanced at Achilles with happiness. "Oh sir—"

"Go on." He shooed us with his cane. "Before I change my mind."

Connor, who had received two hidden blades, helped me put on the blade over my dress sleeve. If I was ever going to use this, I would need different clothing. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a fist banging on the window, and I turned to see a man calling for help.

"Help! Heeeeelp!" He cried from the outside.

Achilles nodded to both of us and I smiled; Achilles was finally allowing me to go out and help someone for once in my life. Connor and I ran outside and met the man by the window.

"You two, please! Help! He's going to die!" The man pleaded with us.

"Who?" Connor asked.

The man took off running, leaving us behind. "There's no time! Please come!"

We glanced at each other and took off after the man. The snow was thick and slowed me down at some points due to having to lift my skirt up, but Connor was kind and waited for me and helped me up again when I would fall. The man, Godfrey, led us to the edge of the river by the bridge.

"Down there!" He pointed. "He's just passed under the bridge!" I could see now that this was not going to be an easy task, rescuing the man, as he floated with the current down the river, holding onto the log for dear life.

"Connor, we'll meet you at the bank." I said, pushing him towards the river, knowing that he would be able to rescue the poor man.

Connor nodded to us and took off across the stones in the river, while I motioned for Godfrey to follow me. There were wolves on the path up ahead, but I knew now that I would be able to stop them. One of the wolves leaped toward me, but the hidden blade shot seamlessly out of my wrist, and I stabbed the creature in the neck, resting it on the ground beneath me. We continued up the path, but I had lost sight of both Connor and Terry, and I worried that both of the boys had gone over the waterfall. _What are you going on about, Margaret? Connor would not have gone over the waterfall._ I convinced myself otherwise and hurried onward, with Godfrey right on my heels.

I heard a splash coming from the river. "Quickly, this way." Godfrey pushed his way ahead of me and the two of us stopped as we saw both Connor and the waterlogged Terry recovering on the bank.

I made my way over to Connor, who was laying down on the snow and dirt, and helped him back up onto his feet, while Godfrey inspected Terry. "What this knob-end is trying to say is he's forever in your debt, sir."

"Who you callin' a knob-end?" Terry managed to stutter while coughing up water.

"You." Godfrey gave Terry his hand. "Because you are one."

"What were you doing on those logs?" Connor asked them as I stood beside him.

"One of the dangers of lumberin'." Godfrey replied while Terry balanced himself back onto his two feet. "We've got the camp set up a few rods off of here, as we're cuttin' timber. We're hoping to open a mill in the area."

Connor nodded and motioned back towards the house. "There is a good place not far from the manor on the hill where we are staying."

Godfrey laughed and hit us both on the arms. "Ha! I like you two already. We'll have a look."

Connor and I followed Godfrey and Terry back up to the manor where Achilles was waiting for us outside. The two lumberers discussed their plans and business with the old man, who eventually agreed to their staying at the Homestead. Terry and Godfrey got to work almost instantly, and I was pleased that their families would eventually come to live with them as well.

"I'll miss the peace and quiet." Achilles had led the two of us to the secluded cliffside, away from the busy work now taking place back at the house. "But we can certainly use the wood."

"The manor needs a lot of work." Connor added.

"That and other things." Mr. Davenport replied.

I nodded. "It will not finish overnight. This will take time, Achilles."

The old man seemed to sigh at my comment. "Connor, I would like you to meet me at the small shack by the shoreline when you have the time. There's something else you need to see. Margaret, I will discuss proper clothing with your mother in due time. But for now, you will continue to remain silent about your weaponry."

My face fell, but I nodded in understanding. Achilles didn't want me to get into trouble that I couldn't get myself out of, but I did want to start exploring the Templar-filled areas of my hometown. Perhaps when I returned home later that week.

"What is it?" Connor turned to watch Achilles hobble away through the snow.

"An...asset," Was Achilles' simple reply.

As he continued on his way, Connor turned to me with a confused look on his face. "Does he ever address you with such puzzling riddles?"

I shrugged. "Perhaps he is trying to teach you something. As a secret Order, we cannot just go about yelling our plans out to whoever passes by. We must speak in secret, with different words replacing the ones that we mean."

Connor narrowed his brow. "I do not understand."

I patted him on the shoulder. "Perhaps that can be our next lesson." I shot him a small smile before turning my back and heading back into the house to make preparations for the evening meals.


	5. Seq 1 - Mem 5 - Lazy Days

**MEMORY 5:**

_**Lazy Days**_

**DAVENPORT HOMESTEAD**

**August 16, 1773**

_Time passed quickly after that—our days a blur of study, training, and work. What little free time Achilles allowed us was spent learning about the Templars. Though for Connor it was mainly about Charles Lee and his father. He longed to confront them. To put and end to their schemes. To ensure that his people would remain untroubled and free. But even I knew that it was too soon. That to approach them now would see not just Connor, but both Achilles and me killed as well. All of his work would be for nothing. Patience. Restraint. These proved the most difficult subjects for him. But in time he mastered them as well. Days became months. Months became years. And as our skill and knowledge grew—so too did we. But Achilles approached me one day with the horrific news that he had reason to believe that my father was leaning towards the Templar side, and alerting them of our plans. I refused to believe the news at first, but as I watched my father's normal behavior, I soon realized that it was not so normal after all._

It was a quiet day on the Homestead, but it was an important one. Achilles had enlisted Robert Faulkner to help teach Connor how to manage the _Aquila_, a once-beautiful warship that had been in need of desperate repair, but after three burdening years, it was finally done. And now, Connor would have to go away. Achilles had warned me, but I wanted to see him off. After all, it wasn't just an important day for Connor, but for me as well.

"Connor!" I called to him, where he was positioned behind the stable

He turned to me, smiled, and waved back as he walked up to me. "Good afternoon, Margaret; and I hope that you are having a good birthday."

I blushed and turned away, happy that he had remembered. "Yes, I am actually. Robert Faulkner has asked to meet you on-board the _Aquila_."

"Of course." Connor replied, and the two of us set off down the path towards the massive warship.

"I am quite impressed." I said as we walked.

Connor turned his head. "Impressed with what?"

"How well you managed to repair her." I motioned towards the _Aquila_. It made me laugh when Connor found difficulty in addressing the large ship. "She's been in disrepair since before you started training with us. I remember the very day that she came back after the attack. It was a dreadful time for both Achilles and Mister Faulkner, though I didn't give it much thought since it was only my fifth day training."

Once we arrived, we were directed to the harbor, where Robert Faulkner awaited Connor aboard the _Aquila_. "Come aboard, and feast your eyes, boy!" He called out to him. Connor attempted to board the ship but was briskly stopped. "No no no no, not the left foot! Never the left foot. Horrible luck. Step with your right foot first."

Connor corrected his mistake and I followed suite, remembering to board with my right foot first. As I looked out onto the beautiful view of the lake, I could hear the two conversing behind me.

"She is...solid."

"Aye. Weatherly and sleek. She'll fetch twelve knots in a stiff gale, ne'er a ship from here to Singapore can outrun her on her best day. Wha'dya say we take her out and show you what she can do first hand."

"Where would we go?"

"As it happens she still needs guns and the officers to command them. We'll launch straight away. Don't worry, lad, I'll make sure you sprout good sea legs."

At those words, I turned around and walked up to him. "So, this is goodbye?"

"I will not be gone long." Connor reassured me. "Give Achilles my apologies for not giving him a proper goodbye."

I smiled. "Don't worry, I shall." We stood in silence for a few seconds before I walked up and hugged him, catching Connor off-guard. "Come home soon." I whispered.

"Haul in the mainsail! Get up the rigging! Hand over fist! Come on, men! Let's get her out where she needs to be!"

I ran off the platform onto the harbor, and I waved as long as I could see Connor waving back at me as the warship _Aquila_ sailed into the sun.

* * *

**ONE WEEK LATER...**

**August 23, 1773**

The day was almost gone. I had spent the day practicing in the Basement, the Hidden Blade on my wrist flinging in and out. There were several punctured holes in the mannequins stitching-stitching that I would have to redo later. I heard the door open from the top of the stairs, and I stopped. My heart began to beat faster, hoping that it was Connor, but the uneven footsteps of Achilles dowsed the thought.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." The old man said slowly, his yellow cane coming into view on the stairs.

I sighed and punched the mannequin, stabbing it in the chest in the process. "I'm still practicing, if that's what you're asking."

Achilles smashed his cane down at the bottom of the stairs and slowly hobbled over to the bulletin board where the Templar portraits hung together, Connor's notes scrawled across the walls. "Is there something you'd like to ask me?"

For a minute I paused before sheathing my Hidden Blade. "Yeah, actually, there is." I turned to face him, adjusting the blade's position over my dress sleeve. "Why did you give me the blade then? Why not wait until I knew everything; until we had our robes."

"Like I said three years ago, my dear." He replied, dipping his head. "Experience is a better teacher by far."

"And what if 'experience' had decided to kill me." I crossed my arms.

Achilles could only laugh. "Connor's stubbornness is beginning to rub off on you." He replied. "Besides, I think you're learning more from him than I could have ever taught you."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Determination." Achilles turned to see me, leaning on his cane. "Will, courage, strength."

I pushed a strand of my blond hair back behind my mob cap. "You really think I could become as strong as he is?"

Achilles nodded. "I do not think...I know."

* * *

**TWO WEEKS LATER...**

**September 6, 1773**

_The days became longer and longer while Connor was gone. The atmosphere held that same sense of loneliness in the air; the same loneliness that had consumed the Homestead while Connor had not been with us the many years before. Some days I felt that the _Aquila_ would return tattered and in ruin, with news that Connor, Faulkner, and the rest of the crew had died at sea. But on other days, I knew that he would eventually return. After all, he had promised._

"Margaret!" I heard Achilles call out. I was in the basement, looking over the old robes, and I immediately hopped up the stairs and into the living room where Achilles was looking out the window. "Come and see." He moved aside so that I could look, but at first, I didn't know what I was supposed t be looking at. Then it hit me. Large white sails could be seen on the lake. The _Aquila_, and Connor, had returned.

I didn't say anything else as I sprinted out of the room and through the front door. I ran past Godfrey and Terry, who had been chopping more wood and lumber for our benefit, and passed more sailors as they themselves returned to the manor. As the ship came larger and larger into view, I tried to find Connor amongst the large crowd. And when I did, I ran harder, ignoring the pounding pain in my legs and feet, as the shoes that I had been wearing were not made for running through the forest.

"Connor!" I cried out as I got close enough for him to hear. He saw me from the dock and smiled, waving as I ran up the dock, and he caught me in his arms when I leaped. "You're back!"

"I told you that I would return." He said, putting me down.

I smiled and adjusted my hair behind my mob cap. "And here you are. Achilles is waiting for you, though he wasn't fully accepting of your goodbye."

Connor sighed and the two of us headed back up the path towards the house. He told me of his adventure on the open seas, from maneuvering the ship past jagged rocks, rapids, and other fine vessels, to having a battle between two English frigates. My eyes widened at how much he loved the water, and I feared for the day when he would have to return to it.

"Three weeks...and not even a goodbye before you left." Achilles addressed us as we came in through the front door. My face fell at Achilles lack of thought that I had told him that Connor was leaving, but I realized that he had really wanted to hear it from Connor himself.

Connor dipped his head in apology. "Sorry..."

"Well?" Achilles began to hobble away towards the basement. "What are you waiting for?"

The two of us looked at each other in confusion before following him down the stairs towards the hideout. Connor immediately walked up to the robes in the middle of the room, and Achilles nodded. "Put them on." My eyes widened and my heart flew. _Connor is becoming an Assassin_. Then he turned to me. "I have put a package in your room. Go on and open it."

I slowly nodded and backed away, hoping not to show the excitement that I felt inside. As soon as I was out of sight, I ran down the hallway and dashed up the stairs into my bedroom, and on the bed, laid out perfectly, were what I presumed would become my very own Assassin robes. They were very different compared to Connor's, but they had been fashioned in a way that made it look stylish for the era. The main piece was a short, slim, blue dress, designed with flower-and-vine textures, that had been sewn into a small, white, man's shirt so that it came together as one. Long black pants that had obviously been fashioned for a woman's wear was next to it, and standing next to the bed was a pair of brown boots. And the final piece was a tri-corn hat that had been dipped to form the symbolic eagle's beak on the normal hood. I quickly dressed myself in the attire, and came downstairs with pride, knowing that together, Connor and I would become Assassins.

The two of us met at the head of the stairs, where Achilles looked each of us up and down and nodded in contemplation, and addressed us, "Once upon a time, we had a ceremony on occasions. But I don't think any of us are really the type for that." I was about to object to the idea of skipping out on the initiation ceremony, but Achilles shot me a look and I shrank back. He obviously did not want to even go through with it. "You two have your tools and your training.. Your targets and goals. And now you have your titles. Welcome to the Brotherhood, Connor, Margaret."

**-END OF SEQUENCE 1-**

* * *

**A.N**

**Yep, so that's end of Part 1. :) I hope you enjoyed the first few years of Margaret and Connor's time as Assassins. Oh, and Margaret's Assassin outfit is basically Maria Thorpe and Claudia Auditore's outfits repeated...because I'm so unoriginal -.- Anywho, I appreciate all of your reviews (especially Mer3Girl because she is awesome) and I hope for more in the future!  
**

**Happy Writings,  
**

**Val  
**


	6. Seq 2 - Mem 1 - Huntress

**-SEQUENCE 2: RIGHT IN THE BACK-**

**MEMORY 1:**

_**Huntress**_

**DAVENPORT HOMESTEAD**

**December 14, 1773**

_These are troubled times. The already uneasy alliance between the Crown and its subjects frays. And behind them both the Templars plot, pulling strings and moving pieces. History dictates they seek order through control. But how will they affect it here? Who supports them? Who have they gathered into their own Order? And what conspiracies have they already spun? All these things Connor and I must determine, for only by knowing our enemy can we hope to stop them._

It had only been two months since our induction into the Assassin Order, but already Connor and I had gotten right down to the business at hand; to stop the Templars from destroying the Colonies through order. But in order to do so, we had to find out their whereabouts first.

Achilles hobbled down the stairs to the basement where Connor was practicing his fighting on the small make-shift mannequin. I was sitting at the desk where the portraits of several known Templars in the area hung about, with Connor's handwritten notes beside them, writing in my journal.

"Connor, Margaret, can you spare a moment?" Achilles called to us. I looked up from my writing to see him holding what looked like a harpoon head attached to a long piece of rope.

"Of course." Connor answered, heading over to him. Connor had grown taller and more built, and his long black hair was now styled in an Native way, with part of it in a small ponytail, and small beads hung from a short, thin braid on the left side of his face.

The old man handed the harpoon to him carefully. "Have a look."

"What is it?" Connor asked him, voicing my own question.

As Achilles began to answer, Connor began to swing the harpoon around in circles. "A Sheng Biao—or rope dart if the two of you prefer." He glanced over at me, and I nodded, acknowledging him. "One of the many plans given to us by Shao Jun to—"

"Are you sure that you should be swinging it around like—" My concerned statement was cut short when Connor almost instantaneously threw the dart into the wall a few feet away from Achilles. I jumped. "That?"

Achilles sighed and glared right at Connor, who apologized. "Hmmm. We'll have to work on this."

All of three of us were surprised when there came a knock on the door. I closed my journal and followed Connor up the stairs to the front door, where we were greeted by two young natives, a boy and girl, who looked to be about my age.

"Ka-nen-doe-coon, Eh-nee-ta." Connor addressed them.

"Yes, my friend." The one known as Ka-nen-doe-coon replied.

The girl smiled. Her long black hair was in two long braids, with feathers attached to the ends, and a crown of them stuck up behind her head, wavering in the breeze. "It has been a long time, Ratonhnaké:ton."

I shifted my weight. It had been too long since I had last heard Connor addressed by that name. I should have continued to call him that.

"What brings the two of you here?" Connor stepped outside the doorway. "Is the village alright?"

"For now." The boy nodded his head. The girl looked to the ground.

"What do you mean? What has happened?" Connor's tone shifted to that of worry.

"Men came, claiming we had to leave." Ka-nen-doe-coon explained to us. "They said that the land was being sold and that the Confederacy had consented."

The girl turned to him. "Men of the village were sent to meet and speak with them, but they sent us away almost instantly."

Connor was shaking with rage. "You must refuse!"

"We cannot oppose the sachem. But you are right as well. We cannot give up our home." Ka-nen-doe-coon agreed.

Connor leaned against one of the white columns. "Do you have a name. Do you know who is responsible?"

He glanced at the girl who replied, "They say he is called William Johnson."

"Where is Johnson now?" Connor shifted his gaze to me and then back to his acquaintances.

"In Boston, making preparations for the sale." The Native boy replied.

"Sale?" Connor spat. "This is theft."

"Connor, take care." Achilles made his way to the doorway, pushing in beside me. I saw the native girl's eyes look him up and down, not knowing what to say or do. "These men are powerful."

"What would you have me do?" Connor motioned to himself. "I made a promise to my people."

Achilles looked down, his eyes hidden by the tip of his hat, but I saw him glance upward at me. "If the two of you insist upon this course of action, seek out Sam Adams in Boston. He'll be able to help."

Connor did not acknowledge Achilles' instruction, and instead motioned toward the hatchet held along the Native boy's belt. The boy unhitched it and handed it to Connor, who then, with a swift motion, sent it right into the column with such force that it stayed in its place.

I gasped, shocked at Connor's action, and Achilles sighed. "What have you done!?"

Connor turned to us to explain. "When my people go to war, a hatchet is buried into a post to signify its start. When the threat is ended, the hatchet is removed."

"You could have used a tree!" Achilles called after them as Connor dismissed his two friends.

After they had put some distance between themselves and the manor, I approached Connor with curiosity. "Who were they?"

"Ehnita and Kanen'tó:kon, friends from my village." Connor did not turn to me until finishing his sentence. "I have not seen them in a long time."

I nodded. "Shall I make preparations for our ride to Boston?"

"You are coming?" He asked, surprised at my request.

I gave him a look. "Achilles did say 'the two of you'."

Connor sighed and shook his head. "Very well. I am going to make sure that Ehnita and Kanen'tó:kon know the way home."

I nodded again and turned away, running back into the house. I first headed back down to the basement, where I picked up my journal, and then headed into the kitchen, where I grabbed an empty burlap sack and began to stuff it full of food, including carrots and potatoes. Then, I went upstairs to my bedroom where I grabbed my old brown traveling cloak (the same one that I had used the night I met Connor), ripped off the hood and ripped it again at half-length, and then tied it around my shoulders, giving my new Assassin robes a sense of my own. One look at myself in the mirror, and I realized the mistake I had made; it definitely looked better without the cloak.

"Margaret!" I heard Achilles shout from outside. "Come down here at once!"

At first, I was afraid that I had done something wrong, but judging by his tone, it seemed to be something more serious. I hurried down the stairs and out to the front of the house to see Connor carrying a young woman who had been injured around her left arm. _Honestly how many women is he going to meet today?_ I complained within the unheard chasms of my mind. "What happened?" I helped Achilles lead the woman to the steps, and then sharply turned my head to see Connor walking briskly out towards the woods.

"Connor!" Achilles called after him. "What are you doing?!"

"Those poachers need to be stopped." Connor replied.

"Saw the scabs from my hunting blind." The injured woman said to him. "Get to that and you shouldn't have any trouble finding them."

"Use the rope dart if you can." Achilles suggested. "Get familiar with it." Connor nodded. "Margaret, dear, meet me in the kitchen."

I nodded and walked briskly back into the manor and into the kitchen, clearing the table and pulling up three chairs. Achilles and the woman followed soon after, and she sat herself down next to the table.

"Margaret, clean away the blood while I fetch the healing supplies." Achilles instructed me.

I nodded again. "Of course."

A wet rag was waiting for me by the fire, and I grabbed it and sat myself down next to her, dabbing softly at her arm. "Who are you?" I asked.

"The name's Myriam." She replied. "And you must be Margaret. Your friend 'Connor' found me on the side of the road bleeding."

"For a woman of this time you have a strange occupation, and you wear strange clothes." I observed.

She gave me a playful look as I cleaned away the rest of the blood. "For a woman of this time I would say the same to you."

I laughed, realizing how true this statement was, as Achilles returned to the room with proper supplies. We cut the rope constricting her arm off and fully cleaned both the skin and shirt of any blood that remained.

Myriam examined her now-healed arm and nodded to both of us. "Thank you Achilles, Margaret."

"You are most welcome." Achilles graciously nodded back, and I smiled at how pleased he seemed to be.

The three of us smiled at each other until I turned to see Connor looming in the doorway, a grim look on his face. "Why did those men attack you?"

"It's no secret this land is full of game." Myriam replied. "I spotted the trespassers en route to request permission to hunt here myself and suggested they do the same."

Connor leaned against the wall. "The bounty of the forest is not mine to give. It is your right to hunt on this land, but I would appreciate you trading your surplus with the others."

I instantly thought of a scenario where both Connor and Myriam were fighting with one another, each arguing over what Myriam should do. But to my surprise, Myriam graciously accepted the offer. "Very well. I accept."


	7. Seq 2 - Mem 2 - Preparations

**MEMORY 2:**

_**Preparations**_

**BOSTON**

**December 16, 1773**

The ride to Boston did not take us long, and we arrived in the early, but cold, afternoon at the gates. Redcoats lined the roads, watching us and the rest of the people for any signs of trouble or rising violence. Achilles had told us that Samuel Adams would most likely be at either the Green Dragon Tavern, or at the Harbor, and so we headed to the latter first. At first, I wasn't exactly sure who we were looking for, Connor eventually slowed his horse, whom he had named Yakohsa:tens, and dismounted, making sure to tie him to a post. I did the same, tying my own black horse, which I had named Coal, next to Yakohsa:tens and I swiftly followed Connor toward a group of men who seemed to be deep in conversation.

"Look, sanctions and demonstrations won't suffice, Sam." One of the men said. "We need to ACT. And I'm talking about more than a sternly worded letter."

"I sympathize with your frustrations, gentlemen. But surely you can understand my reluctance to kick the hornet's nest."

"The Tories sting no matter what we do. Might as well make it count."

One of the men spotted us and his eyes lit up. "Ah! Connor." I presumed that this was Samuel Adams. "Hello again! What brings you to Boston?"

"You." Connor said, smiling mysteriously and I couldn't help but stifle a laugh.

Sam Adams glanced from him to me, looking me up and down, and then he turned back to the other two men. "Would you excuse us fellows?" Sam walked away with us into the crowd, leaving his friends behind. "Thank you. That conversation was about to turn unpleasant. Now, what can I do for you...two? And who is this?" He nodded towards me.

I stuck out my hand politely. "Margaret Cooper, Mister Adams."

Sam accepted the gesture and smiled. "Ah, so you're Margaret. Your father has spoken of you often." I looked to the ground for a moment, embarrassed.

"We were hoping you could help us locate William Johnson." Connor answered Sam's first question as we continued to walk.

"Of course." He nodded. "I'm headed to a meeting with some men who should be able to help. Why don't you come along? It's good to see the people finally taking a stand against injustice..."

Connor muttered under his breath, "Says the man who owns a slave."

My eyes widened, and I choked out a surprised sigh as I hit him on the arm. "Connor!"

"Who, Surry?" Sam questioned him, laughing and ignoring my reaction. "I practice what I preach, my friend. She's not a slave, but a freed woman... At least on paper. Men's minds are not so easily turned. It is a tragedy that for all our progress, still we cling to such barbarism."

"Then speak out against it." Connor replied.

Sam shook his head. "We must focus first on defending our rights. When this is done, we'll have the luxury of addressing these other matters."

"You speak as though your condition is equal to that of the slaves." Connor said back to him. "It is not."

I was shocked at Connor's behavior towards the man who had helped smuggle him out of the city no less than three years ago, but Sam pushed onward. "Tell that to my neighbor - who was compelled to quarter British troops. Or to my friend whose store was closed because he displeased the Crown. The people here are no freer than Surry."

"You offer excuses instead of solutions." Connor insisted. "All people should be equal. And not in turns."

"It's in turns or not at all." Sam further explained. "We must compromise Connor, however painful that may be. Try and solve all the world's problems if—"

"Hey," A cry from around the corner caught our attention, and Connor, Samuel, and I rounded it to see Redcoats surrounding a nearby house. A man was screaming at them from the upstairs window. "It's my home no matter what you thieves called 'taxmen' say! If it's the gumps in Parliament, who want to take my property, you tell them to sail across the pond and take it themselves!"

"It's not open for discussion!" The man at the door shouted back. "Now open this door or these men will break it down!" His threat was cut short when the man returned, only this time carrying a chamber pot, and began to dump the contents downwards, though the taxman moved out of the way in time to avoid being tarnished.

One of the men in red coats shouted, "Bollocks! We're coming in!" As they began to bang their muskets on the windows, the Frenchman leaped through the door, ran right into the taxman, and the two fell through the broken stairway onto the hard ground.

"I trust the mounting evidence is proof enough, Connor." Sam referenced back to our previous conversation.

Connor took only one look. "Continue on with Margaret. I shall meet you at our destination."

"But—" I was about to interrupt, but Connor had already moved onward.

Sam turned to me. "Well, my dear, now we can become further acquainted."

The two of us continued up the street, speaking of the freedoms that the Assassins aimed for, my unique participation as a woman of the colonies, and of my father. "What do you know about him?" I asked.

Sam gave me a strange look. "My dear, shouldn't you know about your father's actions?"

"Achilles has reason to believe that my father may be leaning toward the Templar side." I revealed. No one but Achilles knew of this knowledge, not even Connor.

Sam stopped for a brief moment, and then continued to walk. "If this news is true, then he must be stopped."

"I do not know yet if it bears false witness, but I do not believe that Achilles would send me on a wild-goose chase." I explained as we arrived at the so-called meeting place.

The scent of wine and beer overwhelmed me almost instantly. I had never set foot inside a tavern in my life, and I wondered if all of the taverns in Boston were like this. If so, then I would rather avoid them for the rest of my life.

"We will wait here for Connor." Sam said to me, and he pulled up a stool near the bar.

I sighed and went to stand out front near the door; I couldn't stand the smell of drink and beer. Only moments later did a man whose clothing was covered in blood rush into the tavern, and I had a terrible feeling that if blood was nearby, Connor had also been involved.

"Oi, lady!" A man somehow magically appeared near my right, and I backed away, startled. "Don't run…don't run." He mumbled. This man was obviously drunk.

I put my hands out in front of me. "Do not take offense, sir, but I am not interested in any of your suggestions."

He laughed; a mix of hiccups and chokes, and aimlessly wandered closer. "You new? You sure don't look like any of the ones _I've_ slept with." I could feel his breath on my face now; a mix of beer, tobacco, dung, and onions. He was so close to my chest I could have sworn that we were conjoined.

The sharp sound of a dart surprised both me and the man, and I glanced downward to see the rope dart head right between his feet. The drunkard fell over in surprise, and stayed down, the fall obviously knocking him out. The dart pulled away and I let out of a deep sigh of relief as Connor roped it back in.

"Are you all right?" He asked me, putting his hand on my shoulder.

I shook my head, breathing out. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you right now."

He smirked. I couldn't help but feel lightheaded and giddy. That smirk was always so…so…dare I say attractive? Connor moved his hand away and I followed through the door to the bar, where Sam Adams was speaking to another man, and the bloodied chef—now cleaned—was cleaning a tankard behind it.

"Connor, Margaret! I'd like you meet some like-minded friends." Sam motioned for us to come closer, and he nodded to the man now sitting next to him. "The owner of this fine establishment, William Molineux and the manager and chef of his newest venture, Stephane Chapheau."

The chef took one look at Connor and his face seemed to light up. "Ah, Connor and I just had a ball with some Redcoats enforcing some taxmen outside my home!"

"The collectors grow bolder and more forceful." Mister Molineux added. "Something we must address, Samuel."

Sam nodded lightly in agreement. I shifted my weight, but then pulled up another stool. Connor still stood closely by. "Then let us raise a banner." Samuel Adams spoke. "Something to let the people know that they are not alone. The docks are an angry place of late, protesters picketing the latest shipments of British tea. The eyes of the city are upon that stage…"

"A Bostonian without his tea is a dangerous beast!" Stephane quickly added.

Molineux nodded, motioning to a pouch in front of him. "William Johnson is smuggling the tea off the ships—one of his men tried to sell me this." He passed to Sam with a small toss. "A sample of what I refused, but it's from those ships—no mistaking the stamp. He's charging a King's ransom, must be he's making a mint off those who buy it."

"Where is he now?" Connor raised his head at the mention of Johnson. I looked up at him, and I knew that look in his eyes. Determination.

Molineux turned to face him. "I've never met the man."

"May I ask why the two of you seek him, Connor?" Adams looked at both me and Connor, going back and forth between the two of us.

"He intends to purchase the land upon which my village stands without the consent of my people."

Samuel's jaw moved as he nodded his head, looking at the drink in front of him, and he replied, "No doubt the revenue from his little smuggling endeavor is financing the acquisition." He stopped for a moment, and everyone was in agreement. "A tax enforced on tea grants a boon to smugglers. I'll wager the same men who levy the taxes are selling the tea. A stage requires a spectacle and I may know the play."

Connor dipped his head and moved away from the bar. I stood up slowly, expecting to follow him to wherever he would go.

"Connor," Sam interrupted his departure. "Head back to the docks and see to the destruction of the tea. If you should need us, return here." He then turned to me. "Margaret, I request that you stay here. I have an idea that you could help us with."

I nodded and turned to Connor. He had a look on his face that seemed a mix of concern and relief. "Don't worry, I'll be careful. Now go." The boy bowed to me and exited the tavern. I turned to Molineux, Adams, and Stephane. "What can I do?"

"I need you to spread word that a rebellious gathering will take place tonight on the docks." Sam stated. "It is vital that it is spread as soon as possible."

A mischievous smile crossed my face like a ray of sunlight. "I know just the person. I will return shortly."

* * *

I walked into the Market, my clothing gaining unwanted attention from both the civilians and the Redcoats alike. It was unnatural for me to be wearing something like this in public. But that didn't matter once I found who I had been looking for. A girl with darker hair was standing over one of the stands, her peach-colored dress blowing on the ground thanks to the small breeze from the ocean. I silently walked up to her and cleared my throat. "Beth." I said plainly.

Elizabeth Whitacre turned about slowly, but her eyes sparkled at the sight of me, her best friend. "Retta!" She opened her arms as an invitation. "You look…different. How's your father?"

I accepted the embrace and put my finger to my lip. "You know what I am now."

Beth nodded. "Of course. I didn't expect you to become one so soon though. How's the native?"

"His name is _Connor_, Beth, and we're both doing very well, thank you." I replied. "I have a favor for you."

The girl glanced about and motioned for me to follow her down an alley toward a backyard, and I did so, keeping watch behind me and Beth so that no one would follow us. When we came to a stop, Beth put her basket of goods on the ground, making sure to cover them with her handkerchief. "What is it you need?"

"Samuel Adams and William Molineux are planning a rebellion against the tea tax tonight after dark." I explained. "They need as many people as they can get, though the details are a bit vague to me."

Elizabeth nodded. "And what do I need to do?"

"Tell your brother. He's good at spreading these things." I put a hand on my best friend's shoulder. "Have your father make pamphlets. Hang them around the taverns, or any great meeting place. The news must be spread.

* * *

**A.N.**

**Yakohsa:tens means Horse in the Mohawk Language :)**

**i just couldn't wait any longer to put this out. I'm trying to keep myself on a schedule but at this rate, it'll take weeks for me to update. So, here you go you lucky people!**

**Val**


	8. Seq 2 - Mem 3 - A Not So Merry Tea Party

**MEMORY 3:**

_**A Not So Merry Tea Party**_

**BOSTON,**

**December 16, 1773, Evening**

We stood in front of Christ Church, me, Stephane, and William Molineux. I had informed them of my success, and they were impressed to know that I had connections with Joseph Whitacre, one of the better printers in the city. Connor arrived not long after, reporting his success down at the docks.

"What happens now?"

"We wait for the signal." Molineux replied.

"What signal?" Connor asked. He looked at me, but even I didn't know, and so I shrugged a little.

Sam's voice rang out from nearby. "This meeting can do nothing further to save the country."

"That one." William motioned us to move toward the lamppost, and we followed.

The door to the church opened, and Samuel Adams exited, saw us, and walked forward. "Evening gentlemen, and my lady." I gave him a look. I would have rather been addressed as a gentleman. "Shall we be off?"

"No." Connor replied plainly.

I knew that tone and I looked at him. He was irritated.

Sam stopped in front of him. "What's the matter?"

"I have spent today drawn from one bit of madness to another with nothing to show for it." Connor circled him like a hawk. "Before I go any further, I would like to know exactly what it is you intend."

"Of course," Sam replied, calm even though he had been the victim of one of Connor's outbursts. "First, we make our way to Nathaniel Bradlee's house to fetch the rest of our little group. Hopefully Margaret's actions have gathered more to the meeting place." I shifted my weight, uncomfortable at being recognized. "Then it's on to Griffin's Wharf, where we board the ships and dump the tea. Simple as that."

"Simple seems a bit charitable." Connor spat. This was becoming increasingly tense, and I didn't want Connor to get in a fight with our only allies.

Sam put his hand on Connor's shoulder. "Cheer up, Connor—for tonight we are all victors! The Sons of Liberty get to send a message to England and you and Margaret rob William Johnson of his financing. Your village will be saved."

There was silence as the tension settled between Connor and Samuel.

"I've an idea: why don't you and Margaret lead the way?" Adams recommended. "That should keep us out of any further trouble, am I right?"

* * *

"Dammit!" Sam pointed as we arrived at the Wharf. It was well after dark now, the stars beginning to sparkle in the night sky. "More guards!

"We need to turn the crowd's anger to our advantage." Molineux murmured.

Stephane stepped up to Connor and whispered, "Say the word Connor and I will make it so!"

"I'll take the ones on the left side," I lightly grabbed Connor by his left arm. "You and Stephane take the ones on the right and on the docks."

Connor nodded, and I nodded back before running up and leaping silently across the docks to the second ship, which was being guarded by a group of three Redcoats. I climbed the top mast, and balanced myself above them before leaping and sinking my hidden blade into one of their skulls. They cried out in surprise and shock at seeing a girl murdering one of their own, but that would be the last judgment they ever made. One of the men made a move to stab me through with his musket, but I dodged it swiftly to the right, where I made a large cut on his arm. The man was completely caught off guard, and I used this moment to push him with my foot into the water.

The third man dropped his musket on the ground and took off down the Wharf, most likely to warn his fellow soldiers. _Oh no you don't_, I thought, taking off after him, my boots silent against the wood. I spotted a stack of cargo covered with a white tarp, and I changed direction, leaping onto the cargo and then leaping into the air. My hidden blade unsheathed, I aimed carefully, and stabbed the Redcoat through the back, red blood mixing in with his coat of the same color. When I looked up from my kill, I could see Connor watching at me from his position on the first ship; a look of admiration in his eye. I stood up, and moved a blond curl behind my ear, and I could feel myself beginning to blush.

Crowds of people were beginning to line the streets of the Wharf now that the guards had been dispatched. It seemed that both Thomas's constant habit of spreading words, and his father's pamphlets, had gathered a majority of them, and I was proud of Beth in that moment. I was standing right next to Connor, and I felt him turn around and let out a shrill whistle. The signal. The Boston Tea Party was about to begin.

Molineux, Adams, Stephane, and a new recruit, Paul Revere, walked with us down the pier. All six of us stopped simultaneously, and we separated onto the two ships. I picked up a crate of tea, and successfully threw it over the edge of the ship. The splash filled me with accomplishment, and it was followed by several others as the numbers grew.

The shout surprised me as Paul Revere announced, "Regulars!"

I moved to the edge of the ship, watching as the color red grew in my line of sight, heading toward the different ships. I could feel my wrist shaking as I thought over whether to fight or to stay. It was answered by a rough hand on my shoulder. I whipped about, thinking it was a Redcoat, but I was surprised when it was Connor.

"I will stop the Redcoats. Continue dumping the tea, and protect the others." He motioned to Molineux and Paul Revere, who were standing on either ship. I nodded and went to grab another crate of tea.

* * *

The night went on, and I only had major trouble once, but that was because I had been carrying a crate when the Redcoats had clambered onto the ship, and I didn't want them to break it. When all of the tea had been thrown, and the Redcoats had retreated, Stephane, Paul Revere, Adams, Connor, and I gathered at the front of the ship, looking out upon the rebellious crowd.

"We've done it!" Sam clamped his fists shut and raised his arms in triumph.

All of us, including Connor, smiled with delight and looked out over the crowd. I looked at all of them at least once, but when my sight fell on Connor, I noticed that he was looking at someone. I looked out with him to see, and there, standing on the far dock beside a lantern's light, was who I presumed to be William Johnson…and Charles Lee was standing next to him.

I kept my eye on Connor as we made our way down the plank. Stephane caught up behind us. "Connor!" He cried, out of breath. "We saved the last one for you." He held a crate of tea in his hands and Connor graciously accepted it.

Admiration flooded through me as Connor lifted the package high above his head for all to see. Then he made his way to the water, so that he was facing Johnson and Lee, and just let go, the crate falling into the water with a satisfying splash. Lee and Johnson did not look happy, and both quickly left the scene.

"Best we get out of here, eh?" Stephane said to the two of us before walking away. Molineux, Paul Revere, and Sam had already left.

The two of us stood there for a moment, the rioted crowds shouting and cheering behind us. "Connor?" I asked him. "Are you all right?"

He lowered his head and then looked at me. "For now." With that he walked away, and I let him get farther away from me before I walked after him. It was time to return home.

* * *

**DAVENPORT HOMESTEAD**

**December 17, 1773, Sunset  
**

It took us about a day to return home, and the sun was setting when we did. Connor and I left Yakohsa:tens and Coal by the stables and walked to the Cliffside, where Achilles was seated on an old tree stump.

"It is done." Connor said as we walked, Connor to Achilles's right, and I to his left.

Achilles did not acknowledge me. "Johnson is dead."

"No," Connor walked around so that Achilles could see him. "He retreated when we destroyed the tea."

"Only to hatch some new scheme, I'm sure…" Achilles was not impressed at Connor's mercy. "One of you should have killed him."

"There was no need." Connor replied, the setting sun making a silhouette of the side of his face.

Achilles sat in silence, only staring out upon the water. "Time will tell if you speak the truth."


	9. Seq 2 - Mem 4 - Warning Bells UPDATED

**MEMORY 4:**

_**Warning Bells**_

**BOSTON**

**February 12, 1774**

It was the weekend, and so I was at home in Boston with my mother, Maria, father, now six-year-old brother, Freddie, and a now twelve-year-old sister. It was the late afternoon, almost close to sunset, and I was helping my mother sew a new blanket to replace Marie's tattered and old one. The day had been filled with snowfall, and about two inches now lay outside our home. Now that I had finished my initial training with Achilles, I could travel between the Homestead and Boston whenever I liked, but I enjoyed keeping the schedule that I had before; it kept me on my toes.

My father came down the stairs moments later, carrying a large bag. I looked up curiously and my eyebrows knitted at the sight of him. He was dressed in his traveling coat and hat, and he had an anxious look on his face, like he needed to get away as soon as possible.

"Where are you going?" I asked him.

William Cooper looked at me with what looked like concern and regret. "Oh, nowhere dear." He walked over to his wife and kissed her gently. "I will be back, darling."

"Of course," Mother replied, kissing him back.

He tipped his hat to us. "Tell the children I said goodb—I mean good night." Father said, catching himself, and he went out the door into the evening.

He thought he had hidden his error, but I had heard him say 'goodbye'. I quietly excused myself from the sewing, leaving my tri-corn hat on the chair, and walked up to my father's study. The door was locked. I quickly reached into my pocket for the lock-pick that I always kept with me and pushed it into the lock, breaking it moments later.

The door pushed open silently, and my eyes widened. The entire study was a mess. If Father had been searching for something, then he had done it in a hurry and didn't care who looked through his desk. If he had been hiding something, then he had most likely succeeded. I quickly closed the door so that neither Freddie nor Marie would come snooping in, and went to work. Now was my chance to either prove Achilles wrong…or right.

The papers were strewn all over the desk and the floor. I felt bad about stepping on them, but it was my father's fault for leaving in such a hurry. My boot made a rather loud _crunch_ as it smashed down on top of a balled up piece of paper. I lifted my foot and picked it up, unraveled it, and read it:

_Cooper,_

_Our allies will be arriving soon to take the family. If you wish to live, you must leave. Take any artifacts and papers that will further our cause, but leave anything that could put them back on our scent. I will send them off around 5:20, so be sure to be out of the way and don't look back. If you really are committed, you will allow them to fall into our hands; especially your no-good daughter. Be away, and bring anything vital. This is your test, Cooper._

I read the letter carefully, but I didn't understand until I read the signature at the bottom of the page; my breathing stopped.

_Charles Lee_

I scrambled out the door, tripping on the papers as I flew back down the stairs. I glanced at the clock; 5:18. "Mother!" I tried to remain as calm as possible, but my voice was shaking.

She raised herself out of the chair. Mother knew when I was sincerely afraid, and this was one of those times. "My darling, you're shaking. What's happened?"

"Read this," I handed her the letter, and she took it from me. "Please tell me you are aware of—"

"Lee," She said, her tone shifting to one of worry and anger. "Indeed I am aware, but this…I must admit, I did not know that William had fallen to the Templars."

"We have to get everyone out of the house!" I said.

Mother was hesitant and tense. "But we will never stop the soldiers from coming."

I looked at my feet and then around the room. Then it hit me. "Perhaps not, but we can stall them. Find Harriet and bring her here!"

Harriet was our slave, though she was considered freer in our house than her brothers and sisters down south. Mother nodded and hurried away towards the kitchens. I ran upstairs to the bedrooms, where Freddie and Marie was playing with each other.

"Freddie, Marie." I said as calmly as I possibly could. I really did not want to worry my younger siblings.

Marie's eyes sparkled. "Yes, Margie?"

"We have to go now. Grab your coats and anything important." I replied, holding myself up within the doorway.

Marie and Freddie knew better than to question me, so they did as they were told, though they were greatly confused. I led them down the stairs, where Harriet was waiting for me.

"You called, ma'am?"

"Yes," I replied, letting go of Marie and Freddie's hands as though I was passing them to Harriet. "I need you take Marie and Freddie to my mother. The house is going to be under attack soon."

Harriet took their smaller hands. "Is that all?"

"No." I shook my head. "I need you to find a Native boy who goes by the name of Connor in Boston. He should be here today."

Harriet nodded and led the two children away towards the kitchens. I sighed and looked at the clock again; 5:21. They were coming...and we would have to ready to face them alone.

* * *

**A.N.**

**Hey guys, Val here.  
**

**Due to a message from a VERY THOUGHTFUL READER (you know who you are), I withold my message.  
**

**LoL to you readers who see this after. :p Joke's on you! XD  
**

**Happy Writings,**

**Val  
**


	10. Seq 2 - Mem 5 - The Flames

**MEMORY 5**

_**The Flames**_

**BOSTON**

**February 12, 1774, 5:26 p.m.**

_**CONNOR**_

I walked along the crowded streets of Boston, looking for any sign of injustice or distress. The people looked at me curiously, especially the women and the Redcoats. Margaret would have never looked at me in such a way.

"Please, anyone, I need to find him! Please, help me!" A cry came out, distant from my location.

I walked faster, and I could see the person who was crying was a woman with skin darker than my own; one who the colonists would call a 'slave'. "Who are you searching for?" I asked.

The woman's eyes fell over me in an instant, and they widened soon after, though her urgency did not deplete. "Oh, you're the Native boy! You're the one she asked for!"

"Who has asked for me?"

"My mistress's daughter, Margaret." She said quickly.

For a second, I could have sworn everything stopped at that moment. The fact that Margaret had requested me by sending someone else instead of herself meant something horrible had happened…or was happening.

"Where is she?" I asked urgently.

"Follow me," The woman, who I later learned was called Harriet, turned and began to quickly walk in the direction she had come. She led me to the outer areas of the city.

"Why has Margaret requested me?"

Harriet took a breath. "Apparently the father has fallen to the Templar side. My mistress was rounding the children up and Margaret was still making preparations when I left. Charles Lee has sent men to arrest or…kill the family."

"Where are the men now?"

"I don't know." Harriet replied. "It was only us when I left, but—" She stopped when both of us noticed the smoke rising into the dark sky from nearby. "Oh my God…they're burning the house!" Harriet cried, breaking into a run.

For a split second I imagined Margaret burning to death inside her own home, or being shot for treason, the blood spattering the pure white snow. I did not want that to happen. I ran ahead of her, the burning home coming into view. The house had not been in flames for very long; it had just started.

A voice whispered from the bushes, "Momma, look!"

I stopped and looked to see three figures hunched over; a woman and two young children. _Margaret's family._ I bent down by them. "Missus Cooper?"

Maria Cooper looked up at me, and I knew that she had recognized me, but there was sadness in her eyes. She reached down and handed me a hat; Margaret's hat. "She's still in there." Her voice choked; she had been crying.

"I will find her." I replied, tightening my grip on the hat before putting it away and walking toward the back of the now-burning house. _I will find her alive. _

I found a clear pathway up the chimney of the house to the roof, where I broke in one of the windows, finding myself in a room filled with papers that were strewn about. The setup spoke instantly to me; this was William Cooper's study. I rammed the door open, the hallway was filled with smoke. I covered my face as the ash burned my eyes, but I recovered quickly and hurried down the darkened hall.

"Margaret!" I called, hoping for an answer. "Margaret, can you hear me!"

A faint cough answered "Ratonhnaké:ton?" I was surprised. She had not called me that in a few years. "I'm in here! Hurry!" Her voice was very faint. She did not have much time left. A flashback occurred deep inside my heart, and the image of my mother burning alive in our home began to appear in my mind. _It will not happen again._

I hurried to the front of the room, but the door was barred by a block of wood. _They locked her in here._ I removed the wood and pushed the door open. Margaret's blond hair stuck out first. She was on the floor of the room, coughing.

"Margaret," I hurried to her side. She would not die while I was here. "We must leave, now."

Margaret only coughed and picked herself up. "Mother, Marie, Freddie—"

"They are safe." I replied, though the heat was beginning to rise quickly. "Come,"

She was slow to follow me down the long hall, but I waited for her. It wasn't until we reached the top of the stairs that the coughing began to get worse. She held her hand over her mouth and leaned heavily against the wall before sliding to the floor. "Margaret," I moved a blond strand away from her face. Her eyes were closed. _No, I refuse to let you die today. _I lifted her onto my shoulders, and I made my slow descent down the stairs. The entire room was almost in flames. I moved as quickly as I could through the room toward the kitchens; all colonial kitchens had a back door. The smoke was overwhelming my body slowly; I could feel it within my lungs and my bones.

As the door crashed open, I carried Margaret farther out into the woods filled with snow so that we would not be found by any of the Templar followers. The thick snow slowed our escape. The sudden inhalation of clean oxygen made me feel lightheaded, and I could feel myself slowly slipping away. I tried to remain upright with Margaret hung over my back, but I just could not go any farther, and I collapsed into the cold snow, Margaret falling onto her side next to me.

* * *

_**MARGARET**_

The first thing I smelled was clean oxygen, and my face was cold and coated in…snow? I sat up slowly, trying to remember what had happened. I held my head with my hand. _ The men came…locked me in a room…Connor came…Connor! _The thought hit me instantly and I turned quickly to look for him, and I was shocked to see him lying right next to me, unconscious.

"Connor," I shook him, my blond curls flying freely since my ponytail had come undone. "Connor come on, get up. Don't leave me like this!" The tone is my voice was urgent, with a repressed dash of terror.

He moved beneath my fingertips, and I moved them away as he sat up slowly, using his arms to push himself up. When he was on his knees, we were looking into each others eyes. "Margaret…" He murmured. "You are safe now."

I nodded in approval and relief. "Only because you came."

Connor lowered his head. "Why did they come for you?"

I knew I couldn't hide the truth from him anymore...not when it actually _was_ true. "My father...has become a Templar." He looked up at me sharply. "I didn't tell you because I didn't that it was true until tonight. Achilles approached me months ago with the proposition, but...I didn't believe him." I could feel tears beginning to form at the corners of my eyes, and I brushed them away before Connor could see them.

Connor was silent. Then, he did the unexpected; he laughed. "What?" I asked him.

"You are stronger than I thought you were." He said.

"I don't understand." I replied, confused.

Connor shifted his position so that he was comfortable in the snow. "When I first met you, I did not think you would become a strong Assassin...because you were a girl." I was about to slap him, but he hurriedly added, "But the night of the Tea Party, when I saw you fight off the Redcoats, I knew I had thought wrong. That just because you were a girl did not mean that you could become a deadly Assassin."

We sat there staring into each others eyes after that. His were deep and brown and I was instantly lost in them._ I want to… I really want to…_ "Connor?" I asked him.

He looked at me. "Yes?"

"I want to give you something." I replied, looking down at the snow. Connor did not move. It was his way of saying, _okay_. "When people usually want to give them something, they wait until they are given permission. You can't give me permission until I give it to you."

Connor looked at the ground, and then back up at me. "I do not understand."

I chuckled a little, and moved a strand of snow-covered hair out of my eyes. "Then let me explain."

I looked back into his eyes, and I could tell that he was waiting. I hesitated for a moment, and then I leaned in and kissed his mouth. He was surprised. He had not been expecting this. I could tell from his first reaction. However, when I thought he would pull away, he stayed and kissed me back. We sat in the snow for about a minute before I ended the kiss, moving my head away from him. He opened his eyes and looked at me; he was at a loss for words, and I knew that I would probably never see this side of him for a long time.

I noticed my tri-corn hat in his hand, and I gently pulled it out of his grip, and placed it back on top of my snow-covered head. I stood up in silence and sighed, contempt with his response. "I have to find my family, let them know I'm all right." I looked down at him. "I'll see you soon."

With that moment, I left him sitting in the snow. I smiled as I walked away, glad to be over with it, and glad to know that he too was glad. But then I stopped and turned back. "Tell Achilles...that he was right."

* * *

**A.N.**

**I think I had tortured you people enough with waiting!**

**Yay! Finally! A nice Margaret/Connor moment! It's about time I got here! This scene was kinda sweet to write, and I just now realized that the entire time that they're making out, the house is still burning a little... O.O Oh well, romance is romance! And now I'm done.  
**

**Oh! One more thing! I'm pretty excited for the release of all three episodes of the DLC, because...well...I have an idea on how Margaret can fit into all of it. But it won't be as expected ^.^ NOW I am finished.  
**

**Am I doing okay? Send me a review! Seriously, if I'm dining something wrong, please tell me!**

**Happy Writings,  
**

**Val  
**


	11. Seq 2 - Mem 6 - Secluded Memories

**MEMORY 6**

_**Secluded Memories**_

**DAVENPORT HOMESTEAD**

**July 11, 1774, Five Months Later**

Connor, Achilles, and I maintained a constant relationship at rebuilding the Homestead. More and more people were beginning to come by, including: Lance the Woodworker, Warren and Prudence the Farmers (who were hoping to conceive a child), and Norris the Miner (who had an obvious soft spot for Myriam). All three became rather favored amongst each other and the ones who had been here originally. Connor and I did not speak of our first kiss, especially when Achilles was around.

One Monday morning in July, I had just finished unpacking from my trip to Boston to check up on my family. They were now staying with Beth and her family until it was safe to rebuild our lives again. Connor, Achilles, and I were standing outside the secret doorway to the basement, when the front door suddenly burst open.

"Ratonhnaké:ton! Ratonhnaké:ton!" The voice of Kanen'tó:kon pierced the hallway. He sounded urgent. A second set of footsteps followed him, and I presumed this to be Ehnita. My assumptions were correct.

"Kanen'tó:kon? Ehnita? Why are you here?" Connor asked them, stepping into their line of sight. "Has something happened?"

The Native boy and girl walked up to him. "William Johnson." Ehnita spoke softly.

Kanen'tó:kon continued, "He has returned—with all the money required to buy our land. He meets with the elders as we speak."

"We have begged them to decline the offer, but we fear that the worst may arise unless you intervene." Ehnita's tone was that of worry as she spoke from behind Kanen'tó:kon.

"How is this possible?" Connor looked back at me. "We destroyed the tea." I nodded to him, approving of my involvement in the matter.

Achilles hobbled over so that he was next to me and directly behind Connor. "The Templars are nothing if not resourceful. The two of you should have heeded my warning."

"Please Ratonhnaké:ton," Ehnita stepped so that she could see him. The Native girl looked exactly as she had the last time they had met.

Kanen'tó:kon looked at her, and then back to Connor. "You have to stop him."

"Of course," Connor motioned for his friends to follow him out the doorway. "Can you tell me where they are meeting?"

Achilles and I still stood near the back door as they left. The two of us looked at each other, and Achilles nodded toward the door before making his way back into the kitchen. I stepped out into the summer sunlight, and my eyes fell upon the young Native girl sitting on the steps.

"Ehnita?" I asked.

The girl merely twisted her head slightly to see me. "You are Margaret."

"Yes," I made my way over and sat next to her. "You know Connor well?"

Ehnita hesitated for a moment before realizing that 'Connor' was another name for 'Ratonhnaké:ton'. "More than well," She replied. "I am one of his greatest friends. Alongside Kanen'tó:kon, I have also known him the longest."

I looked away from the girl and into the sunny wood, the green overwhelming. "What happened to him…when he was younger."

Ehnita looked at me this time, and then looked away. "You care a great deal about Ratonhnaké:ton. I will tell you."

I positioned myself comfortably, ready to finally hear the story.

"His mother was named was Kaniehtí:io, a beautiful woman known to her friends as Ziio." Ehnita started. "She met a man called Haytham, and the two fell in love. She conceived a child; Ratonhnaké:ton. She learned more about Haytham's past and convinced him to leave. Sixteen seasons passed, and Ratonhnaké:ton grew stronger. As we were playing a game one day, he disappeared, and returned to find his village burning. His mother died that day, and he was the last to see her before she burned alive."

There was silence as I closed my eyes, a soft tear preparing to fall.

"Thirty-six more seasons passed, and he became braver, always having Kanen'tó:kon hunting in the forest with him, while I helped the Clan Mother. He left that day; the day of the Ceremony. And I did not see him again until William Johnson threatened us."

I was breathing heavily, trying to hold back tears. _He had never told me…_

Ehnita turned to face me, her dark eyes twinkling in the light. "Do not cry for Ratonhnaké:ton. He is strong, and if you cry he will become weak."

I wiped away my tears and nodded. "Thank you, Ehnita, for telling me everything."

She dipped her head low. "You are my Khe'kén:'a, and I am proud to call you as such."

**-END OF SEQUENCE 2-**

* * *

**A.N.**

**Another sequence over. :( But don't worry, because it is NOT the end! :D  
**

**Khe'kén:'a means Sister in the Mohawk language ;) And now I am finished.  
**

**Happy Writings,  
**

**Val  
**


	12. Seq 3 - Mem 1 - Midnight Ride

**-SEQUENCE 3: THIS IS WAR-**

**MEMORY 1:**

_**Midnight Ride**_

**DAVENPORT HOMESTEAD,**

**April 18, 1775**

_William Johnson is now dead at Connor's hand—and with him the Templar plot to steal the land of his people. But in ending this threat, he has revealed another. Apparently, on Johnson's body was a letter addressed to John Pitcairn, containing orders to root out and destroy Patriot weapons and supplies. Should he succeed in this, the colonists will be unable to maintain their resistance and the Templars will surely take control. So long as Pitcairn lives, the danger remains. We need to find him. He needs to die._

Connor and I stood in the secret basement. It had been about nine months since the death of William Johnson. The two of us stood examining the portraits of the Templar leaders; Johnson's had been crossed out. Achilles walked in slowly behind us.

"I thought it might bring clarity," Connor explained to him the crossing out of the portrait. "Or instill a sense of accomplishment. But all I feel is regret."

Achilles turned to us. "Hold fast to that. Such sacrifices must never come lightly."

"I had to do it," Connor said. "Not only for my people, but for all the others Johnson would have harmed." I caught his small glance at me, and I understood what he meant.

The old man nodded. "It's a start. But to truly be free of Templar influence, all of them must be dealt with in turn. Even your father."

"I know." Connor snapped back. He never liked to listen to anyone tell him about his father.

Achilles gazed at him for a minute. "You speak the words, but do you believe them?" The floorboards from upstairs creaked, and all three of us turned at the exact same time. The creaking stopped. "Seems we've company."

Achilles went up first, but when he didn't come back down right away, Connor and I silently followed. A man was standing outside the doorway, a bag around his side. Achilles was reading a letter of sorts, obviously given to him by the Courier.

"What is it?" Connor walked right up beside him.

Achilles took him in before replying, "A request for aid from Paul Revere. Seems the Redcoats are up to something in Boston. Guess the two of you made an impression on the Sons of Liberty." He looked back at me.

"They mistake us for one of their own." Connor replied softly to him before turning to the Courier. "Please tell Mister Revere he has our sympathies, but we cannot help at present."

"You may wish to reconsider." Achilles waved the Courier to stay, and passed the letter to me. "John Pitcairn is mentioned by name." It was the truth. I skimmed the letter's contents, but I stopped once I saw his name written in dark calligraphy upon the page.

Connor turned to his mentor, an obvious look of determination coming into view. "Where am I to go?"

"Mister Revere's house in Boston." The Courier replied. "If you'd like I can—" He was cut short, as Connor had already roughly shoved him out of the way and was heading down the road toward Boston. I quickly recovered for his rudeness by tipping the man for his travels, before jogging to catch up with him.

* * *

**BOSTON,**

**April 18, 1775, Evening**

When we arrived in Boston, it was transitioning into the evening. The address led us to a small house in the North Square in the middle of the city, away from the busy docks and piers. Connor, being the polite gentleman that he was, invited himself in, where three men sat at a table, preparing to drink their tea.

"Ah, Connor. What a relief!" I recognized Paul Revere as he set down the teapot. "You came! Allow me to—" He attempted to pull Connor by his arm, but the Native—with no effort at all—easily pulled his arm away from him. "Allow me to introduce you to William Dawes and Robert Newman."

The two men stood up and nodded at him, but they hesitated when their gaze fell on me. I nodded to them politely, and they did the same to me…eventually.

Connor walked right past him towards the table. "Your letter said John Pitcairn was here."

"Aye," Paul moved to the open doorway and closed it so that no one would here our further conversation. "He's readying an assault on Lexington, where Adams and Hancock have taken shelter. After that, he will march on to Concord—hoping to destroy our weapons and supplies. The two of you must help us!"

"Only tell us where to find him and we will put a stop to this." Connor growled.

Revere nodded and moved away from us. "He has dozens, if not hundreds, of soldiers at his command. You cannot hope to match him by yourselves. But fear not—for you will not have to! We have an entire army of our own—merely awaiting the order to take up arms."

"Then you must call upon them." Connor was so close to Revere and so tense that I almost thought he was going to stab him right in the chest…or possibly in the face.

"Indeed," Paul Revere grabbed Connor's shoulder for a quick moment, and I noticed Connor's head turn to look at where he had been touched, almost as if he had been infected by an unknown disease. "You, Margaret, and I will cross the Charles River and rouse the boys. William," He crossed over to address the other two. "I need you to take the overland route and the do the same. Robert, I need you up in Christ Church. Light the signal. Two lanterns—our enemy comes by sea!"

The two men nodded, understanding their instructions, and headed out the door.

Revere returned to the two of us. "No time for dawdling, my friends!" He once again attempted to hold Connor's shoulder, but Connor roughly grabbed his wrist away. Paul shook his finger and pried his hand out of his grip. I, too, was beginning to grow tense as Revere annoyed Connor further. "We have lives to save. Come on!"

* * *

**FRONTIER**

**April 18, 1775, Night**

We rowed across the river by boat, and when we did finally arrive across the Charles River, two horses, one white and the other brown were waiting for us. Paul Revere jumped out the boat onto the shore, and I followed him, leaving Connor to pin the boat down on the shore.

"Ah," Paul said, seeing the two horses grazing together. "They've only left two horses. Connor, you and I will have to ride together. Margaret, go on and take the west side." I nodded and climbed into the saddle of the white mare. "Warn as many people as you can. When morning comes, meet us in Lexington."

I nodded in understanding, and I nodded at Connor as well, before clicking my heels into the horse's side and taking off down the darkened countryside. The moon lit my path as I held the reins tight, leaning over the neck of the mare. She whinnied as we raced down to the nearest settlement; a group of hunters outside a log cabin.

As the mare stopped, she moved to the side and then reared up. I held onto both my hat and the reins with a fierce grip. The mare came down seconds later. "Alert any colonial militia men in the nearby area immediately!" I said to the two men who greeted me. "The Redcoats are preparing a march on Lexington and Concord. Now go!"

The two men nodded to me and hurried back inside. I nudged my mare onward. "Come on, Daisy." I said to the now-named mare. Perhaps Revere would allow me to keep the mare as a token of his gratitude. I shook the thought from my head as I pressed onward, hearing the sound of other horses and footsteps going about in the opposite direction.

The road was dark as the pair of us continued. Suddenly, I could see a light up ahead; the origin being a Redcoat patrol. I clacked my tongue and guided Daisy into the nearby woods, hoping that the patrol would not see us as we hid from them. Daisy dug her hoof into the earth and hopped about. "Ssh, Daisy, that's a good girl." I stroked her snow-white neck to calm her as the patrol quietly passed us. We were now in the clear.

My heels clicked against Daisy's side and the mare trotted out of the woods, and once we reached the road, she burst into a full gallop, eating the road with her hooves. I breathed heavily as my eyesight caught a large wheat field blocked by a long wooden fence. We were very near Lexington. Then there was a gunshot, and Daisy reared up in surprise, though I held myself together at the last second and survived it. She shifted to the side and I looked about for the source of the gunshot. A second later, Connor and Revere burst out of the wood, closely followed by an enlarged group of Redcoat soldiers.

"Come on, Daisy, hyah!" I snapped the reins and Daisy reared, whinnying loudly for all to hear, before tearing across the dirt. As we came closer, I unsheathed my hidden blade, and stabbed one of the men in the back of his neck.

The group was surprised at our ambush. As Daisy reared again in triumph, I caught sight of Connor and Paul sitting on their horse in the wheat field, watching me. I took off my hat and waved it about, a signal for them to continue on and to trust me to my own devices. They were hesitant, but were soon away from the danger. The soldiers were coming onto us like hornets, and so I smacked her rump, and she took off, the soldiers beginning to load and aim their muskets. As the first shot fired, I instantly ducked, and hoped that their aim was just as bad as their intentions.

Thankfully, I only felt one get as far as the ground we travelled. The others were lost in the mix of smoke and dust behind us. Turning my head back to the direction of Lexington, I knew that I would have to wait until the sun rose to return to the meeting place. And so, Daisy and I galloped continuously through the night, hoping that our actions would save countless lives the following day.


	13. Seq 3 - Mem 2 - Invasion

**MEMORY 2:**

_**Invasion**_

**LEXINGTON, MASSACHUSSETS**

**April 19, 1775**

The day was young when I finally arrived in Lexington. Daisy and I had had a rough night running from the Redcoats. I dismounted her in front of a large house where I let her drink out of the nearby trough of water. Leaves flew in different directions, and I shielded my eyes as I searched for Connor. I had not seen him since the night before, and hopefully he did not believe me to be dead.

"There you are." A familiar sound came from behind me. I turned on my heels and I was about two inches away from Connor's face.

I sighed, relieved that he was unharmed. "I was just looking for you."

Connor smiled a bit, but then returned to his normal seriousness. "Come, John Parker waits with the Patriot army for Pitcairn."

I nodded and followed him to where a two-line row of Colonial men stood, their guns at the ready. An older man—who looked to be in no condition to even hold a gun—was pacing back and forth.

"Stand your ground, men!" He wheezed loudly so that all could hear. "Don't fire unless fired upon! But if they mean to have a war, let it begin here!"

Connor and I stopped beside him as the man began to cough. I attempted to help him, but I was interrupted when Connor spat, "Pitcairn."

I looked out across the field to wear about a hundred Redcoat soldiers had gathered behind a man on a dark brown horse; John Pitcairn. "Disperse, you damned rebels!" He commanded. "Lay down your arms and disperse!"

The muskets exploded across the field, flashes of bright fire expanding into our limited vision. The Patriot minutemen at first turned tail and fled behind Parker, Connor, and I, while the three of us took cover behind a large boulder. "What the deuce are you doing?! Hold your positions!" Parker wheezed. "Cravens! Traitors!"

Connor had to drag him behind with us. "They are not coming back." He shouted over the gunfire. "You will have to make do with those who remain."

"Don't you lecture me on how—" He stopped talking as everyone listened. A bird chirped nearby, and the wind blew the leaves over the ground. The gunfire had ceased into absolute silence. "Return fire! Return fire!" Parker commanded to the few men who had not fled for the hills. He turned to the two of us. "You need to get to Concord and warn the others. Show this to whoever leads there. Should be a man by the name of James Barrett." Parker waved us to go on ahead. "Go on now."

I raced to Daisy as the gunfire continued. All around us, chaos ensued. Women, children, and men alike were all fleeing in the same direction. Nothing like this had ever happened in our history, and so were completely unprepared. My white mare raced along beside Connor and his own horse.

"Come on!" I heard a man shout to his fellow soldiers. "We'll meet up with the others in Concord!"

Smoke began to waft quickly into our path, and it burned my eyes as we raced through, passing other unfortunates as they fled on foot, doomed to either fall behind or be shot.

"Get moving men!" Another shouted above the gunfire. "We've little time!"

Connor and I were well into the forest now, the town of Lexington behind us, but still not close enough to Concord. Even here, more Patriot minutemen who had heard of the coming bloodshed were running for their lives.

"Stick together, boys." A soldier was calling to his neighbors. "And keep the pace!"

As we passed beneath a low log, a shout made me nervous. "They're taking prisoners! Run!"

"Connor…" I looked at him as Daisy pushed herself to go faster.

"We will be safe." Connor replied, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. I wanted to believe him, but inside I was worried out of my mind.

"To Concord, lads!" More men were falling, blood spattering the ground. _Are the Redcoats here as well!?_ I thought. It was the only explanation as to why the other men were still running when we were such a distance from Concord.

Smoke filled our vision as we arrived in a town a little bit larger than Lexington, but it wasn't Concord. "Help!" A man cried. "What's happening!" As we passed him, he stumbled and fell into the dirt.

In this town, there were more civilians. Women and their children were fleeing with their husbands as men on horses pushed them onward. "Get out! Everyone, run!" I watched as children screamed for their families, lost in the oncoming chaos. My heart fell as we passed women cradling their injured husbands and fathers in their arms. "They're taking prisoners!" The cry came again.

"Look!" A man pointed. "The Redcoats have taken captives!"

Connor and I halted for a brief moment to see the group of prisoners. Connor turned to me and shouted, "Ride on to Concord! Warn as many as you can!"

I knew that tone, and I didn't dare argue with him. I nodded, and turned Daisy to the main road, riding off toward the town. At the edge of the dense wood, Daisy reared onto her hind legs and I cried, "Come forward unto Concord!" The civilians gazed at me as though I was their savior—meant to lead them into a new world of peace and prosperity. The men grabbed their wives, their children, their concubines, and ran after me.

The bridge was not far now. I could see it in my sights, and I slowed Daisy to a canter as we crossed the river. "I've got a surprise for those lobsterbacks!" A man cursed as we passed. I heard irregular hoof beats coming from behind, and I turned around to see Connor racing for me. He slowed the horse as he came to Daisy's right side. Together, we crossed the final part of the bridge.

Men were hurriedly carrying barrels filled with substance that I did not know, and others on horseback and foot were rushing to position beside the river. In the distance, I recognized William Dawes speaking with a man in red—though he was not a Redcoat. Connor and I dismounted and rushed to him, out of breath and out of time. "Blood's been spilled in Lexington, and there's more to come." Connor stated.

"The Regulars march as we speak." I finished.

The man in red, James Barrett, looked at me with curiosity and humor. "You don't say?" He walked up to us slowly. "Why do you think I've men up here?" Connor looked to his right, completely humiliated. "Go home, the two of you, 'fore you get yourselves killed. I've enough to worry about without some green boy and rebel girl looking to play heroes."

"I can vouch for them." Dawes raised his head high and stood his ground.

Connor ripped the parchment from his pocket and held it a distance in front of him. "John Parker as well."

Barrett took the paper from his outstretched hand and moved away from the three of us to read it. Connor motioned to Dawes, who came up to us. "Where's Revere?"

"Captured."

"What?" I was sure that Connor and I both were just as surprised by the news. A slick like Revere captured by British Redcoats on patrol?

"Fear not," Dawes was unsurprised by our reaction. "That man's no stranger to sticky situations. He'll be fine, I'm sure of it."

"Ahem," Barrett cleared his throat, which signaled to the three of us that he had finished reading the letter. "You ladies finished gossiping?" My jaw shifted, but Barrett caught this and added, "Of course, I meant no offense to you, milady." I crossed my arms, still not impressed. "Parker seems to believe the two of you aren't completely useless. So I suppose there's a thing or two you may be able to help with. When the fighting starts, we'll need to hold those positions there." He pointed to the edge of the water on either side of the bridge. "They're critical to the defense of Concord. Good boys, not used to soldiering. They need someone with experience to direct 'em. That something you can do?"

Connor only nodded in reply.

Barrett stepped up to him. "You'd best be telling the truth." He snarled.

"You have my word." Connor replied, unfazed.

"Then I suppose all that's left to do is wait…" Barrett turned to me. "Milady, if you would follow me." He turned to walk back toward the house behind us. I swiftly followed him, leaving Connor to prepare for the oncoming battle with the rest of the Minutemen.

I was assigned to help monitor the use of the gunpowder and explosives, and to also tend to any of the wounded after the battle who were still breathing. Barrett had given me a strict rule: If they aren't breathing, then they aren't worth it. I, of course, did not believe in this philosophy, and swore that I would help whoever needed it.

The sound of marching began to grow louder and louder, and I opened the front door of the house and looked out to the bridge, where almost a thousand British soldiers had gathered, all led by John Pitcairn on his horse. Connor sat on his horse behind the three separate sectors of soldiers; one before the bridge, and the other two on either side of the water. He looked like a general the way he sat.

The gunfire began instantaneously, and I jumped at the amplified sound that it made. More Redcoats fell than the Patriots that day. We were running low on gunpowder and musket balls when the battle ended abruptly. There had been no sign of retreat until Pitcairn made the order, galloping away as fast as he could; the true coward that he was now obvious.

After tending to the wounded, which was great considering the number of men that we lost, I mounted Daisy—who had been locked within a corral behind the house—and we trotted across the bridge to where both Barrett and Connor were waiting for me.

"Takes a true monster to do something like this…" Barrett motioned to the number of bodies lying on the ground. Almost all were Redcoats. "At least they're gone."

"I should have struck when I had the chance…" Connor reprimanded himself for not going after Pitcairn. "Do you know where Pitcairn could've gone?"

Barrett looked out across the forest; the ground spattered with British blood. "Back into the withered bosom of the British no doubt—so that he might regroup and plan his next atrocity."

"We need to find him." Connor looked at me for a moment before turning back to Barrett. "Every day we wait, more will suffer…"

"Chin up, friends." Barrett glanced at both of us. "Many who should've died today now live because of you."

Connor shifted his weight to both legs, and then raised his hand to the left, his palm falling across the numerous bodies. "And what of them?"

Barrett simply replied, "We do the best we can with what we've got."

"It is not enough." Connor growled.

Barrett put his hand on Connor's arm. "Hm. It never is…" With that, the man left us, walking in the direction of Lexington. The stench of death and blood overwhelmed us as we stood side by side. The Colonies were now at war with the English Crown.

* * *

**A.N.**

**Ah, the War is finally official. :3 For clearance purposes, Margaret was _attracted_ to Connor at the time of their first kiss. She was not neccessarily in love with him. This is for clearance due to future chapters not making any sense (in my opinion) to the continuity. X3**

**Remember, Reviews make the world go round! :D**

**~Val**


	14. Seq 3 - Mem 3 - Saving Charlestown

**MEMORY 4:**

_**Saving Charlestown**_

**PHILADELPHIA**

**June 16, 1775**

The First Continental Congress was in progress, and I stood outside the building, leaning against one of the pillars. Both Connor and Adams did not think it a wise idea to allow me inside. I had protested, but the two men won me over anyways. Now I wished that I had gone against them and went ahead inside.

The doors opened, and men in fancy wigs and coats began to pour out in bunches. I stood a good distance away so that I would not arouse suspicion. When Adams and Connor did not initially exit, I decided to go inside. Thankfully, the hallways were not crowded, but they were not empty either. Men in fancy white wigs watched as I made my way through the door. I didn't have to explore long; Connor was standing a few feet away.

"What happened in there?" I asked as I approached them. Both seemed surprised to see me. "What, did you really think I would wait out there for the next two hours while you found new information?"

Connor glanced at me, and then back at Sam. "We were just leaving. Let us go." He crossed over to the door, and I politely bowed to Sam as a good-bye.

I was the first to mount, having kept Daisy from the two months before. "What _did_ you learn?" I asked, watching Connor as he mounted his own horse.

Connor looked at his horse before giving me a reply. "Charles Lee was there."

We sat in silence, listening to the people going about their lives in the city. "What did you do?" I asked, completely calm. I knew how much Lee meant to him.

"Adams forced me to stay back. But I will kill him…one day." Connor growled, obviously upset. He could have killed Charles today, dealt a deadly blow to the Templar cause, but I understood why Adams would have told him otherwise.

"Where are we going now?" Connor led me down the paved Philadelphia road.

He did not turn back. "Bunker Hill."

"Isn't that near Charlestown?" I inquired.

Connor ignored my question. "We are to speak with Israel Putnam. Adams is convinced he may be able to help with our problem with Pitcairn."

* * *

**FRONTIER**

**June 17, 1775**

By the time we were back in Massachusetts, a new day had dawned, and our urgency grew. As we let our horses walk down the road, there was a Continental soldier standing in the middle of the path, pointing his musket aimlessly in every direction possible. Both Connor and I dismounted our horses in order to speak with him.

"We're looking for Israel Putnam." He held up the parchment in his hand for the man to examine.

The man lowered his musket, but catiously made his way toward the two of us. "On who's orders?"

"Samuel Adams." Connor replied slowly. The man took the parchment out of his hand and read it, looking back at us afterward.

"Follow me." He adjusted the grip on his musket and strode back to his horse. The two of us glanced at each other as we went to our respective horses, following him.

* * *

**BREED'S HILL, CHARLESTOWN**

**June 17, 1775**

As soon as Connor realized where we were, he said, "This is not Bunker Hill."

"Aye," The man replied. "It's Breed's. There's been some…disagreement as to where we should encamp."

"Has there been any news from Boston?" I asked, riding behind Connor, keeping Daisy right on his path.

The man was surprised at my request, but he answered nonetheless. "The Tories aren't moving. And anytime we try to press them, we lose a dozen men. I think Putnam and the others plan to assemble artillery on these hills. A good shelling might make the Redcoats rethink their strategy." He urged the horse into a canter, and we followed suit.

"And what of John Pitcairn?" Connor inquired.

The man laughed. "That bastard is the cagiest of the bunch. He's appeared, time to time, to taunt us or send regards by way of cannon fire." As we arrived near Breed's Hill, more Continental soldiers began appearing on the sides of the road. "It's all right, though. He'll have what's coming to him soon enough."

We rode the rest of the way in silence. Charlestown appeared in the distance to our left, but we continued down the beaten path, cannon fire sounding out against the quiet forest background. A mix of smoke and mist fell onto the path as we continued up the hill. On the other side, dust blew into our vision as a makeshift Continental camp greeted us. Unmanned cannons lined the road, and gunfire blew in both directions.

"Putnam's just up ahead." The man shouted over the overbearing noise. "You can't miss him."

"I don't care much for your excuses, gentlemen." As I slowly dismounted Daisy, I could hear an older man speaking loudly above the gunfire and cannon blasts. "We should be building on Bunker Hill. Breed's is closer to the city, but it is also closer to their artillery!"

Connor and I made our way across the encampment to the dug-out center where a group of soldiers stood around. "Our orders came from men so divorced from the situation, we are compelled by reason to employ our own faculties to make a proper determination." A solider called back.

"Were that I could understand even HALF that nonsense you just uttered." The leader, who I assumed to be Israel Putnam, addressed him again.

Connor and I watched from a safe distance, but there was a soft _boom_ from behind us, and we turned to watch a cannonball blast right at a man's feet, flipping him in the air and landing him back down on the ground with a sickening crash. Blood covered him.

Israel looked up as more cannonballs flew past them, smoke trailing them through the sky. "I rest my case. I'm going back to Bunker Hill." He turned to leave. "Good-day, gentlemen."

Connor glanced at me and the two of us quickly made our way across the dug-out, nearly avoiding a collision with a cannonball in the process. "General Putnam?" Connor pulled at his shoulder.

"What?" He turned on us, obviously surprised that anyone had come up to him after such a display.

"We're looking for John Pitcairn." Connor explained calmly and slowly as more cannonballs shaped the ground around us. "I was told you'd be able to help us find him."

General Putnam adjusted the position of the cigar hanging from his mouth before taking it out. It wasn't the brightest idea, in my opinion, to go walking around a camp filled with explosive equipment with one in your mouth. "He's tucked away inside the city with no reason to leave. So long as that ship continues its assault, we'll never flush him out.

"But if the ship was silenced…" Connor continued.

I nearly shrieked as another cannonball landed fairly close to our position. Fourtunately, I held my breath, but only seemed surprised. If I was to continue my work as an Assassin during this time of war, I would need to prepare myself for the battles ahead. A man jumped away like a jackrabbit as more cannons fired and landed.

"Then poor John might be forced to get off his arse and come forward!" Putnam agreed, though he seemed reluctant.

Connor looked down to see one of the flags sewn by Elizabeth Ross lying in the dirt, covered with debris. He quickly brushed and shook the excess off before holding it for Putnam to see. "I shall fly this flag to signal our success."

All General Putnam could do was laugh. "And I shall speak fondly of you at your funerals." He turned away, ending the conversation, but not before Connor could spit on the ground where the General had once stood. I glared at the general as he was still in my sight, but I turned tail once I realized that Connor was gone.

The cannonballs continued to fly, blasting away pieces of rock and dirt into my eyes. The summer heat was beginning to rise, and I could feel beads of sweat upon my forehead, though I did not know whether it was from the heat, or the fear of death that so covered the battlefield. We slid down the mound, and vaulted over the fences that led into Charlestown. Before we had even gone two steps, two cannonballs plunged from the heavens and landed on either side of us. I screamed and stopped for a moment before running again.

"Keep running!" Connor shouted to me. "If you stay in motion they will not cause you damage!"

I breathed heavily as we continued. At one point, the entire church came down, blocking our route. We continued along the side, passing both dead soldiers and civilians. I glanced upward, and I sucked in a breath as the roof of an entire building began to come down; its destination where I would next lay my steps. I thought about what Connor had told me; to stay in motion, but the overwhelming fear of death made me stop and back away. The roof was in my path in seconds. My judgment had been correct; only Connor could have gotten through. I would have been crushed.

"Margaret!" I heard him call out above the noise.

I waved my hands in the air and looked for a hole for him to see me through. Before I could reply, dust filled my lungs and I coughed. It sounded fleshy. "I'm all right! Just finish the mission! I'll meet you at Breed's Hill!"

I could see Connor dash away, and I turned back around to find another route back to the encampment. Chaos ensued. Redcoats and Patriots fought along the docks, the ships in the harbor sending dozens of reinforcements. Connor would have thought different, but now was not the time to fight. I dashed away to my left, hoping to reach the outskirts of the town unharmed.

"Help!" I heard a woman scream. "Help us God, help us!"

In that moment I had two choices to make; risk my life to save the lives of the innocent, or save myself and leave those innocents to die here either as cannon targets, or burning scarecrows. The decision that could change my life…could only be made in less than five seconds.

* * *

As the fires burned, I watched from the edge of the hillside as the thirteen-starred flag rose above the smoke to signal to General Putnam, his troops, and me that Connor had been successful in his endeavor. The navy assault was over.

The screams still rung inside my mind; the women who cried for their fallen husband, children, and fathers; the children who had not lived long enough to know what was happening; the men who had fought to protect this new country, and those they loved. All of those lives…that I had chosen not to save. I felt tears begin to fall down my dirt-streaked cheeks, and I quickly wiped them away, only to smear more dust over my face. I would never forget that pain. Never.


	15. Seq 3 - Mem 4 - Bunker Hill

**MEMORY 4:**

_**Bunker Hill**_

**CHARLESTOWN**

**June 17, 1775**

"The enemy advances and you tremble." All of the Continental soldiers, including myself, had gathered around General Israel Putnam. With the ships silenced, the soldiers could now focus on the incoming brigade. "They've better numbers, you say. Better weapons. Better training. But I do not fear, and neither should you. For that they have in material, they lack in conviction and care. But not us. We have discipline."

I felt a rough hand on my shoulder, but I did not scream or shout. I casually turned to see Connor looking back at me, his Assassin robes covered in dust. The two of us smiled at each other before turning back to Putnam. "We have order. And most importantly, we have passion. We believe! So maintain vigilance. Conserve your ammo. Ensure a proper line of sight. And above all else, men, do not fire until you see the whites of their eyes."

The soldiers stood up all at once, and rushed to hold their positions on the hill or on the battlefield. Putnam, completely out of breath from shouting above the noise, was sitting on a crate smoking his cigar as we approached him. He took us in, and then pulled it out. "Well I'll be damned, you did it."

"That was quite a…speech." Connor didn't know what to call his address.

"Lies, all of it, I'm afraid." He admitted, sticking the cigar back into the corner of his mouth. I wrinkled my nose at his breath on our faces. "Still, such words have carried us this far…"

Connor interrupted him by asking, "And what of Pitcairn?"

"He's left Boston as I said he would, and set up camp on Moulton Hill." Putnam passed his spyglass to Connor, who peered through it. "There's no good way to get at him - not with that maelstrom brewing down below. I suppose you could circle around a bit, or wait for us to thin their ranks."

Connor passed the spyglass to me, and I put it up to my eye, closing the other one shut. There were massive amounts of Redcoat reinforcements at the camp, and firing lines filled with about ten to fifteen soldiers each let out blasts of gunfire every other minute. John Pitcairn was seated on his horse, prancing about from each position to the next.

"There is no time." I heard Connor reply. "I will have to chance a direct approach."

Putnam let out a rumble in his throat. "That's twice today you've proposed the impossible!"

"I see no other choice." The native Assassin said back.

The General stuck his cigar back in between his teeth. His breath reeked of it. "That's cos the two of you are mad as march hares, son."

Connor turned to face him, but only leaned in closer and said quietly, "I expect an apology on my return." With that he left, dashing away towards the battlefield, but not before he shot me a look that said: _Stay here and out of danger_.

"Is there anything I can do to assist the Patriots, General Putnam?" I asked, turning to him.

He snickered at me. "Go home, girl, before you get blasted into the sky." Then he walked away, his cigar breath leaving a foul odor in his place.

I growled in my throat. General or not, this man was not being cooperative. A blood-curdling scream forced me to turn around as a man fell victim to a cannon blast. His left leg was completely gone. A group of soldiers rushed to his side, but they simply picked him up and threw his body on top of a cart. The man was dead.

"Miss, please!" I heard a soldier push into my arm. "It's not safe out here! Go back to the town and help them clean up there!"

That made me snap. I quickly grabbed a rifle from the stand and hurried out to a spot of cover beside two other men. They looked at me with wide, terrified eyes. I felt the dirt blast as the British firing lines let out their gunfire, and I quickly stood up and aimed the musket. I had never held one of these before, and I knew that what I was attempting was stupid, but I had to do something.

"Ready, aim," I shouted above the noise. The two men did as I did, following my movement. "Fire!" I screamed, pulling the trigger and feeling the ball fly through the air out of the gun. A moment of hesitation from the British signaled to me that some had been hit.

I turned to the men. "Continue to do so when they lower their weapons. The lines will be thinned." The men glanced at each other, obviously confused at taking orders from a girl who did not seem to know her place. Either way, they nodded as I scrambled back up the hill.

Minutes turned to hours as the battle continued. In that time, I had succeeded to helping the wounded soldiers and watch as my strategy of thinning their ranks began to show progress. Suddenly the fire stopped. The British soldiers were beginning to act antsy and nervous, being careless in their gunfire.

General Putnam called retreat seconds later, even though we were so close to winning the battle. Honestly I didn't even know what kind of logic was going through his head. A soldier surprised him, and he shouted. "How dare you sneak up on me like that!" Out of the corner of my eye I saw Connor walking fast toward him. I presumed the British hesitation was his fault. "Why don't you just go off there and just help this camp retreat! Don't ever do that again you hear me! God Damn'it."

"General Putnam." Connor announced himself, surprising him.

Putnam looked over his shoulder at us, obviously at a loss for words. "You live!" He said calmly.

"The same cannot be said for Pitcairn." Connor replied back, his tone unchanged. I glanced over at him as he said it. Pitcairn was truly dead if Connor had said it.

Israel Putnam motioned for us to move with him. "Well done, I suppose. But it matters little now. I'm ordering a full retreat. We have lost too many in exchange for too little. If the Tories want this hill so badly, let them have it. Boston is the true prize."

We looked out over the burning city of Charlestown, the flames beginning to dim lower and lower. The screams of the civilians rang in my ears and I had to turn away in shame.

"We have a bigger problem." Connor pulled an envelope out of his robe and held it out to Putnam.

"What do you mean?" He asked suspiciously as he took the letter and opened it, sticking his cigar back into his mouth as he read it. His eyes glanced over the paper but suddenly stopped, and he pulled his cigar back out. There was silence. "This can't be right. It says they plan to murder Washington!"


	16. Seq 4 - Mem 1 - A Visit to New York

**-SEQUENCE 4: THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY-**

**MEMORY 1:**

_**A Visit to New York**_

**DAVENPORT HOMESTEAD**

**June 25, 1776, Late Morning**

_Our enemy is tenacious. When __money__ failed them, they took to force. But Connor has slain Johnson and Pitcairn both, ending their plots. George Washington now rallies the colonists and their march towards freedom begins in earnest. Little wonder, then, that the Templars now want him dead. They seek to reshape this land into something cold and ordered. Something soulless. And he is an obstacle. We must save him, that his cause can flourish and Connor's people remain safe. But the more we prod, the greater the chance we are discovered. The Templars believe their men lost to the revolution. In their eyes, the Assassins are gone and scattered - no longer a threat. But I fear they will soon discover the truth and us along with it. We must tread carefully..._

That day we had a visitor come to the Homestead. It was still the early afternoon hours and I was sitting in the Drawing Room, entertaining our ally and friend, Benjamin Tallmadge. Both of us were drinking some of my well-prepared tea.

"I must say," I began. "I am quite curious as to what news you bring of our conflict with the Templars."

Tallmadge sipped his drink and looked at me politely. "I would rather speak to both you and the native at the same time."

I set down the cup and the plate. "I apologize, Mister Tallmadge. Achilles and Connor must be down below."

The man—who was not much older than I was—replied, "I don't mind Miss Cooper. To be honest, I rather enjoy your company."

"You certainly have a way with words, Mister Tallmadge." I couldn't help but smile, and I could feel my cheeks beginning to turn red.

"Please, call me Benjamin." He said, smirking.

I stood up and replaced my hat over my thick blond hair and led him out into the Dining Room, where I told him to wait while I refilled my tea. As I poured the hot drink into the cup, I could hear voices coming from the next room, though they were faint.

"Return these and then your words may have some merit." Achilles said calmly as he appeared in the doorway. I motioned to the teapot and he waved me away, dipping his head to Benjamin in acknowledgement.

Hopping footsteps soon followed as I walked over to stand by Tallmadge. "Or you could just admit that you were wrong." I heard Connor snap.

I sighed in embarrassment. Now was not the time for Connor to argue; especially with a guest in the house.

"Oh child, please." Achilles lifted the tray with the teapot and the third cup. "You've killed two men—one more salesman than soldier. You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that to impress me." He slowly hobbled his way into the Dining Room, setting down the tray on the table and lifting up his own cup.

"Is that so, old man?" I heard Connor remark sharply. "Or perhaps we should step outside? I will gladly demonstrate how easily I could trounce y—" He stopped suddenly when he saw me and Tallmadge.

My neck was burning with embarrassment, and I could see Connor turn a tiny shade of red when he realized what he had been about to say.

Achilles stood calmly across from us. "Connor, this is Benjamin Tallmadge. His father was one of us, no need for secrecy. I think he has something he wants to say to the two of you."

Tallmadge straightened himself, trying to look taller than Connor, though that was a contest that ended quickly. "Achilles tells me that the two of you have uncovered a plot to murder the Commander in Chief." He glanced at me, a sly look on his face, and I shifted me weight, trying to hide a smile.

I looked over at Connor who was watching me intently. He had a look of alarm on his face, but it was only a glimmer before it faded. "Yes. But we have only false starts and dead ends to show for it."

"Not anymore, my friends." He set his cup on one of the drawers and walked over, putting a hand on Connor's shoulder. I noticed that he did not shy away like he had done with Revere. "Thomas Hickey's your man—and I aim to help the two of you catch him."

"How?" Connor was looking at his shoes, but raised his head briefly.

"I'll explain on the way." Tallmadge began to lead Connor to the door, and I followed on his right side. "We are going to New York."

* * *

**NEW YORK**

**June 15, 1776, Late Afternoon**

I had never been to New York before now, and each time I had heard about it, I had yearned to see it with my own eyes. It was not as amazing as I had presumed. In fact, it reminded me of Boston in a way. Tallmadge had prepared horses for us, but I had taken Daisy instead, though she was now aging, but still a good mount nonetheless.

"So what is your stake in all this?" Connor asked as our Assassin trio trotted across the bridge onto the outskirts of the city.

"Same as yours," Tallmadge replied, keeping his eyes on the road. "Peace. Stability. A land in which all might live side by side—free and equal."

I turned to face him as I urged Daisy beside him. "Why stay away from the Brotherhood? Why not fight for our cause under our name?"

"My father was an Assassin." Benjamin explained. "Quite good at his job, too, as I understand it. But…I hope to have children some day." He was looking at me now. "It's hard to live in two worlds at the same time. So I chose to live in one."

"I understand." Connor called back, though I could feel his stare boring a hole in my back.

Tallmadge mistook his remark. "I still contribute as I can. It's why we're here now."

"And we appreciate your contributions; all of us." I replied, sending Connor a warning glare, as we neared the main city.

Patriot soldiers seemed to line the roads more than the Redcoats, though I could see some in the distance. The paved roads were filled with civilians, and I slowed Daisy to a trot in order to keep up with Connor and Tallmadge.

"What can you tell us of Thomas Hickey?" Connor spoke up as we walked through New York.

Tallmadge's horse sat between us, so that both Connor and I could hear. "He has been running a counterfeiting ring in the city. Locate the source of his operations, and we can have him arrested. He cannot harm the Commander if he is in prison."

"Do you know where he is?" Connor replied.

"Not exactly," Tallmadge replied honestly. "But I have an idea where we can begin the search."

We kept our horses on the path until we came to the Marketplace, which was even more crowded. Tallmadge signaled to us to tie our horses down and continue to the spot on foot, so as not to arouse unwanted attention.

"There are rumors of bad bills being circulated here. No doubt they come from Thomas." Benjamin explained to the two of us as we walked.

The Marketplace was crawling with merchants and artisans hoping to sell the fruit of their labors. However one man seemed to be remarking his customer harshly. "What are you up to? This isn't money! It's colored paper. You've cheated me for the last time! GUARDS!" The man began to suspiciously walk away, looking over his shoulder every few seconds. I turned to Connor and he nodded at me. We had found a target.

The two of us followed him in two different ways; I on the ground and Connor on the roofs. I followed the man slowly, careful to hide behind corners whenever the man attempted to spot me. Both of us followed him to a small backyard where two other men were waiting. I hid in the bushes while Connor hid behind some barrels on top of a shed.

"Oi, Daniel—best put them bills away. The guards is on to us." The first man said hurriedly.

"How?" The second man's tone was urgent. A third guard past the bushes, and I held my breath until he passed. "What happened?"

"Damn shopkeep called me out!" The first man said. "Brought the guards, but I gave 'em the slip."

Daniel nodded. "Boss is gonna be mad."

"Not so mad as if I'd gotten caught." The first snapped. "'Sides, we've got most everything we need for the job now, anyway."

"Best go tell him." Daniel murmured. "I'll warn the others."

I waited quietly until he was gone before attempting to pop up from my hiding spot, Connor's hand pushed me back down. "Stay here."

"What?" I hissed back. "Since when have you wanted me to—?"

"Go back to Tallmadge." He snapped coldly. "Perhaps you can be of some assistance to _him_ as you were back at the home."

My jaw dropped. The fact that he was being this disrespectful _now_, when we were hunting down a _Templar_! "Excuse me?!" I hissed.

Connor didn't respond, as he had already taken off after the counterfeiter. I stood there staring after him, mouth agape, for a few minutes before scowling and taking off after him. His trail was obvious, because at the end of a street, I could hear moaning coming from a small warehouse. I kicked the door open to find two men, one dead, on the floor.

I grabbed the one that was still breathing by the collar and held him up against the wall. "Where did he go?" I asked, holding my blade to his neck.

"Why should I tell you, sweet cheeks?" The man sneered.

I pushed the blade closer to his neck, allowing four beads of blood to come free.

"They went that way, toward the market!" The man broke, urging toward the broken window.

"Thank you," I smiled politely before slamming his head into the wall and letting him fall to the floor with a _thump_.

I pushed a lone strand away before running out of the warehouse, following the trail of commotion that I saw. People were picking up dropped possessions, and Patriot soldiers were recuperating from…something. Men were acting like pigs, grabbing at small slips of paper and coin that I presumed to be pounds.

Then, I saw them. Connor had Hickey exactly where he wanted him, but he was hesitating, and I watched from behind a wall. Two Patriot soldiers walked up to them and grabbed them. "You are both under arrest!"

"Ah well, we were just havin' a scrap, officer!" Hickey attempted act as innocent as possible. "Ain't nuttin' wrong with two men settlin' their differences the ol' fashi'n way. Can't we come to—"

"Silence!" Connor roared, and I jumped at his tone. "What are the charges?"

"Counterfeiting," A second soldier walked up holding a bag that I presumed to be Hickey's

"I had nothing to do with that." Connor pointed.

"Course not!"

"Listen, there are more important things at stake here. This man is planning to—"

I saw the club before Connor did and I quickly hid back behind the alley wall, my hand on my mouth, and slumped down onto the cold stone pavement. There was a groan and loud smack, and I didn't need to turn around to know exactly what had just happened.

Connor had been arrested. And Thomas Hickey was with him.


	17. Seq 4 - Mem 2 - Bearer of Bad Tidings

**MEMORY 2:**

_**Bearer of Bad Tidings**_

**DAVENPORT HOMESTEAD**

**June 25, 1776, Late Evening**

Daisy was dead tired and I knew it all too well when I arrived back at the Homestead. Daisy was breathing hard when we stopped, and I knew I shouldn't have pushed her as hard as I did. But it had been for a good reason. It was raining when I returned, and I hurried to dismount Daisy, as she got panicky when there was thunder. Just as I thought of it, a loud clap sounded through the sky and Daisy reared back in alarm as I held her reins.

"Whoa, girl!" I forcefully pulled her back down, and stroked her long white nose. "It's all right Daisy, it's all right. Come on, now. Come on." I led her across the yard toward the stables and I locked her in her stall, feeding her part of an apple as a treat before making my way to the house.

The door was locked upon my arrival, and I used both the doorknocker and my own knuckles to announce myself. I noticed a light turn on upstairs, and I heard the uneven steps of Achilles' cane as he made his way to the door.

The door opened slowly, and the two of us looked at each other for a minute before Achilles said, "Margaret,"

I pushed my way inside and tore off my hat, hanging it on a hook. The fire was warming up in the Dining Room, and I pulled up a chair close to it, warming my chilled bones. Achilles walked in behind me, and leaned on his cane, his eyes watching both my dripping wet form and the crackling fire.

"Where are Connor and Tallmadge?" He asked calmly.

I was silent. I didn't want to talk about how I had failed my mission to help Connor assassinate Hickey…all because I had been too cocky with Benjamin Tallmadge. I clenched my fists at the thought of him. He had ruined our friendship in a few short hours, and he hadn't even come back with me to inform Achilles.

"Tallmadge is in New York, running his mouth about Hickey because…" I drifted off. Achilles grunted, impatient with me. "Connor and Hickey have been arrested."

I heard the wood of his cane begin to snap. He was tightening his grip. "How is this possible?"

"Connor gave chase to him when he tried to flee…and he had him cornered but he hesitated and the guards cane and they beat him and—" I realized that by this point, my voice was beginning to choke up.

Achilles cleared his throat, signaling me to stop. He hobbled over next to me and put a hand on my shoulder. "You are worried for him."

"Of course, he's my best friend, why wouldn't I be!" I said back.

Achilles only looked into my eyes and replied, "Are you sure he is _only_ your friend?"

At first I wanted to say "yes" and leave it at that, but I kept my mouth shut and started thinking back to that night in the snow. How my home had burned behind us. How we had looked at each other in the light of the moon. How we had kissed… And in that moment, I realized something. I…I was _in love_ with Connor. Of course, it had taken me no less than seven years to realize it, but still. _I _was _in love_ with _Connor_.

"I know." Achilles interrupted my deep romantic thoughts, and I could feel myself blush. "And this is what I want you to do..."

* * *

**A.N.**

**Hiya everyone! Unfortunately I have no life this month due the end of the year schoolwork and rehearsal for a school play everyday until the end of the month. Also, my muse for this story as been sapped to a tiny flutter-as you can so tell by the shortness of this chapter-so I may be late in uploading later chapters. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.**

**~Val**


	18. Seq 4- Mem 3- Visit to Brideswell Prison

**MEMORY 3:**

_**A Visit to Bridewell Prison**_

**NEW YORK,**

**June 26, 1776**

The dress was itchy; no doubt about that. Because I had thrown away all of my old dresses in exchange for my Assassin robes, I had to borrow one of my mother's old ones. The skirt was a crushed cranberry color, and the top was white with a floral print; red roses and their vines crawling down to the sleeves and edges. The sleeves went down to halfway between my elbows and my hands, and my blond hair was once again tucked inside the safety of the white mob cap that adorned my head. I felt like a lady, and I didn't like it one bit. And there was one other part about my attire that I hated; I couldn't wear my hidden blades.

As I walked up to the prison entrance, two Patriot guards stood watch. They eyed me suspiciously, and they blocked my way as I came up to them. "State your business." The first said.

"I wish to see the savage." I said flatly, knowing that if I said Native they wouldn't let me in at all.

The second sneered, "No one sees 'im. Direct orders from—"

He stopped once I took out the large pouch overflowing with pounds. "Will this suffice?" I asked, holding it out for them to take.

The two guards glanced at each other, and one of them swiped it from my hand, checking the contents. They looked up at me, and I knew I had succeeded. "Follow me."

The prison was gruesomely unkempt. It smelled of rotten dung and vomit, and the men that watched me made me feel very uncomfortable...and unsafe. I was now walking with one soldier either in front of me or behind me, and they led me to a small, dark room on the other side of the building.

One the men gently herded me inside, closed the door, and whispered through the crack, "Wait here. We'll being 'im in."

At first I thought they had caught me, and were now going to keep me in here to feed to the Templar dogs. But that idea was scrapped once I heard several voices shouting, "Come on, you halfbreed, move!" The door opened, and a body was pushed inside before the door closed again, knocking out all the light.

Neither of us dared to breath. I knew it was him; I recognized his form. The men had most likely taken his robes and held them somewhere with the Warden, but he was still the same Connor I had seen the day before; unbroken and determined.

I watched the silhouette of his head look up. "Who are you?" I stifled a laugh. He didn't recognize me at all. There was a shallow beam of light coming from the window that was about five feet above me, and I stepped into it just enough so that he could see my face. "Margaret." He breathed.

I wanted to tell him that I was sorry; that it was my fault he was stuck in this rotting prison, but instead I sank to the ground, and I could feel tears begin to fall out of my eyes. Connor pulled himself towards me, and wrapped his arms around me. "Why do you cry?"

I pushed him away so that I could see the outline of his face, and I ran my hand down his jawline, feeling the chill of his skin on my palm. "I'm afraid." I whispered.

It was the truth. Even when my father had sent Templars to kill us, I hadn't been truly afraid. But now, at the thought that Connor could remain here forever, or worse be executed, I truly felt terror. The thought of never seeing him again. The thought of continuing the fight on my own. The thought of losing the man I now loved.

Connor was silent. "I will not die today." He replied softly, his hands tightening on my shoulders. "The same cannot be said for Hickey."

I smiled and laughed softly, watching, even in the darkness, the glow of his eyes. I was reminded of the night we first kissed, and I knew what was coming next before he leaned in and pressed his lips against mine. A new truth rose to the surface, and I realized that Connor had always loved me, but he had been patiently waiting for me to confirm his wish.

The kiss lasted until a guard startled us by banging his fist on the iron door saying, "Time's up!"

When the fear of being discovered had passed, I realized that Connor and I were holding each other protectively, and I laughed, looking up into his face. I hugged him, and then whispered in his ear, "Achilles has a plan. Do not fear."

* * *

**A.N.**

**My muse is back! Thank you Tyranny of King Washington for wonderful boost in my muse tanks! :D I'm finally not a busy bee anymore, so expect your weekly dose! :3**

**~Val**


	19. Seq 4 - Mem 4 - On Eagle's Wings

**MEMORY 4:**

_**On Eagle's Wings**_

**NEW YORK,**

**June 27, 1776, Late Evening  
**

"What!" I cried, slamming my hands down upon the table.

"Calm down, Margaret, everything is going to be all right." Achilles tried to console me.

I turned on him quickly, my hair still under the white mob cap. If I was going to be wandering around New York, I was still forced to remain incognito. "Calm down? Connor is about to be executed and you tell me to calm down!?"

Benjamin Tallmadge put his hand on my shoulder. "We don't know that for sure."

"Don't touch me!" I pulled away from him. "I'm still blaming you for all of this."

"Margaret, hush!" Achilles shouted lightly.

I only crossed my arms and moved to the window. The sun had set hours ago, and the cobblestone streets were bathed in the light of the moon. Both Patriot and Redcoat guards roamed the streets but never crossed paths. Stray dogs and cats scratched at the doors of various neighbors, hoping for a meal. I only tightened my grip on my arms. It hadn't even been one day and Connor couldn't keep himself out of trouble. Whatever he had done before, it was going to cost him his life.

"Are we still going through with the plan?" Tallmadge asked, leaning over the table to speak with Achilles.

The old man nodded. "Yes. You and I will remain in the crowds, while Margaret will lead the other Assassins Connor has gathered on the rooftops."

I turned abruptly. "How do you know this will work?" I started walking towards them again. "What if Lee sees us? What if they start shooting at us? What if we're too late!"

"Get a hold of yourself, girl!" Achilles shouted as loud as he possibly could.

The entire room grew silent.

"Connor is not going to die." He continued. "Not yet."

I sighed and looked away, my jaw set, and my arms still crossed.

"Now then," Achilles pulled out a piece of parchment while Tallmadge handed him a quill and ink. "This is what we are going to do."

* * *

**NEW YORK,**

**June 28, 1776**

An entire crowd gathered to watch the spectacle that morning. An entire crowd. I could feel my hands shaking the entire time I made my way up to the roof. Another Assassin would be below me, making sure that the surrounding rooftop snipers would be taken care of. I had finally been able to change back into my Assassin robes, and my blond hair floated in the breeze. It had just begun to rain, and I knitted my brows as the sharp tang of the falling water hit my face.

The crowd suddenly began to grow anxious and I looked up. The prison cart was beginning to roll in and I knelt down, signalling to the others that the time was coming. I watched as they literally kicked Connor out of the cart and pulled him up, pushing him through the crowd. George Washington himself had decided to attend, safely positioned at the top of the steps of a marketplace with two guards on either side of him. Thomas Hickey himself walked Connor through the crowds, and they parted the way for him as though he was their savior; which he was. They just didn't know it yet.

He was almost at the gallows when a woman punched Connor, causing him to fall to the ground, and then spat on him. My fists clenched and I unsheathed my hidden blade, ready to defend him. Achilles then appeared and shoved her aside before speaking to Connor. From my distance, I couldn't hear what they were saying, but Hickey soon stepped in and pulled Connor back to his feet, pushing him again in the direction of the gallows. Charles Lee, of all people, was waiting for him.

"Brothers. Sisters. Fellow Patriots." He began. "Several days ago we learned of a scheme so vile, so dastardly - that even repeating it now, disturbs my being. The man before you plotted to murder our much beloved General."

"Hey! What are you doing up here!" I turned around quickly, my breath caught in my throat. A Redcoat guard stood towering above me. Thinking fast, I was able to draw my blade up to block his attack; the end of his musket almost lodged deep into my throat.

"Indeed. What darkness or madness moved him, none can say. And he himself offers no defense. Shows no remorse. And though we have begged and pleaded with him to share what he knows, he maintains a deadly silence." Lee continued.

I had to get back to my post so as not to miss my cue. I threw the man with such force that he fell back. I turned around. Connor was being draped with the cloth sack so that his glassed-over eyes would not be visible to the people once he was dead. The guard had to be dealt with, and quickly.

"If the man will not explain himself - if he will not confess and atone - what other option do we have, but this? He sought to send us into the arms of the enemy."

The guard was right on top of me then. There was no time for me to move, but then he was falling over, blood coming out of his mouth and stomach. One of my fellow Assassins stood over me. I nodded at them and they did as well, taking off. _At least we have each other's backs..._ I thought to myself.

"And thus," Charles Lee was about to finish Connor's entry into the Afterlife. "We are compelled by justice to send him from this world." I readied myself, the knives right in my hand. "May God have mercy on your soul."

The lever was pulled and the floor fell out from Connor's feet. The sack wriggled and then jerked upward. The signal. The knives flew out of my hand in a split second and cut the rope suspending his body from the ground, and he plummeted. Once the knives had left my hand, me and the other Assassins had leaped from our posts onto the ground below, where the guards instantly attacked us. A guard threw himself on me but I quickly sliced his throat with my blade. Another guard, watching my every move came up behind me. Thinking fast, I rolled out of the way and used my blade to knock him down on top of my back. Then, breathing hard, I stared into his eyes. They were filled with fright and agony. Closing my own and calming my breathing, I let go, giving him one last look before taking off in the direction Connor had run.

Another, smaller, crowd had gathered. I pushed myself to the front. Connor was kneeling down beside the body of Thomas Hickey. It was over. It was all over. "Connor!" I cried, running out to him. He stood up and opened his arms, which I ran into almost instantly. We stood there, embracing each other before the clicks of muskets brought us back to reality and the two of us looked around at the several soldiers who were aiming their weapons at us from all sides.

"At ease, men! At ease!" General Israel Putnam slowly made his way over to us, still smoking his cigar. I hoped that it wasn't the same one from Bunker Hill. "I said lower your goddamn guns! These two are heroes!" The soldiers lowered their guns and dispersed almost instantly. "The General can be so stubborn sometimes. Piffle, he said, when we warned him something like this would happen! Piffle!"

He took one look at Thomas' body and kicked it. "Stop." Connor held out a hand. The two of us were still holding each other.

"He wanted to kill the Commander." Putnam explained. "Nearly killed you as well. He was a scoundrel."

Connor was unfazed. "But still a man."

**"**Hmph." Putnam chuckled. "You're nothing, if not consistent."

"Where is Washington?" Connor continued. "We need to speak with him."

"Bundled off as soon as your execution went sideways. He's likely on his way back to Philadelphia by now."

"Then so are we."

"Something wrong?" Putnam was now concerned.

"He is still in danger." Connor explained as we turned to leave. "Hickey did not act alone..."

Putnam watched us as we left. The rain was still falling, and I looked up at him. "You had me so worried."

He gave me a smirk. "Didn't I tell you?" I replied by giving him a curious look. "I did not die today...but the same cannot be said for Hickey."

* * *

**PHILADELPHIA,**

**July 4, 1776**

"It's quite impressive, what the two of you have accomplished."

Achilles, Connor, and I entered Independence Hall in Boston, where Samuel Adams, Benjamin Franklin, and John Hancock had called for us. Or, more specifically, for Connor.

"Is that... a compliment?" Connor questioned Achilles' behavior. He never acted this straightforward.

"Now don't misconstrue." He wiggled his cane for emphasis. "I'm sure the whole endeavor will end tragically. But to have come this far... Well, it's more than I ever expected."

Connor walked beside him. "The people yearned for freedom, but feared to grab hold of it. That fear is gone now."

"Thanks to you and Margaret." Achilles stopped outside the door.

"No," Connor shook his head. "This they did on their own."

Achilles shook his head, along with an exasperated sigh. "You diminish your roles. But you've always been of humble heart."

"_I_ do what is right." Connor replied. "No more. No less"

Achilles was silent for a moment before saying, "You cannot tell him."

Connor sighed and shook his head. "I have to. Otherwise, he will never be safe."

"He is safer not knowing!" Achilles replied back harshly. "By planting the seeds of doubt, you threaten to topple his entire endeavor. If Washington is paralyzed, Charles Lee will strike. You'll cause the very thing you aim to prevent. Hunt the Templars, as is your duty... But do not drag these men into it."

For once in his life after that, Connor heeded Achilles' advice. But little did we know of the storm that was coming.

**-END OF SEQUENCE 4-**

* * *

**A.N.**

**Hey...can you tell my muse is back? Cause I sure can!**

**YAY! Muse is so good! Yep, my muse is up and kicking, and now that Margaret and Connor are officially together, that muse will only overflow. XD**

**Reviews are appreciated!**

**~Val**


	20. Seq 5 - Mem 1 - Capture the Flag

**-SEQUENCE 5: A WOMAN'S WORK-**

**MEMORY 1:**

_**Capture the Flag**_

**DAVENPORT HOMESTEAD,**

**Early Winter, 1777**

_Winter approaches. The air is still and sharp with grim expectation. The others sense it too, and go about their work with uncommon urgency. I want to help them, but more pressing matters now demand our attention. The Templars have targeted George Washington directly - and will not rest until he is dead. Connor had hoped to shield him from this knowledge, but Thomas Hickey ended any hope we had of staying silent. And so he has resolved to share everything he knows - of the Templars and their plots - of who we really are. Achilles finds fault in this, and the two argue every day. But there is simply too much now at stake to maintain restraint. _

The Homestead had grown since the early days of summer. Warren and Prudence had given birth to their first son, Hunter, thanks to the help of Connor and Lyle White, a doctor from Boston. Not soon after that, a blacksmith, Big Dave as we called him, also settled down with us, alongside Ellen and her daughter Maria, who had come to escape her abusive husband in New York. And last, but certainly not least, Father Timothy had helped us build a small church on the premises; the same church where Myriam and Norris would be wed in the later months.

But not all was peaceful. Connor and Achilles had been arguing again, and I had been trying to write in my journal when there came a great commotion from upstairs. At first, I feared that Connor had finally snapped and knocked the old man down. Slamming my book shut, I took off up the stairs. Connor was carrying the same mat he had brought with him when he first arrived, and he was making his way down the steps of the Manor. Coming up beside Achilles, the two of us followed him out.

**"**Don't do this, Connor!" Achilles begged.

"Then what would you propose we do?" Connor turned around and snapped back. "Sit and watch while the Templars take control? We are sworn to stop them. Or have you forgotten"

Achilles hobbled his way closer. "Assassins are meant to be quiet. Precise. We do not go announcing conspiracies from the rooftops to all who pass by."

"Who are you to lecture anyone?" Connor said again to his face. "You locked yourself away in this crumbling heap and gave up on the Brotherhood entirely. Since the day I arrived, you've done nothing but discourage me. And on the rare occasions you've chosen to help you've done so little, you may as well have done nothing at all."

My hand flew to my mouth in shock. Never had Connor insulted Achilles in this way. "How dare you!" The old man replied sharply.

"Then tell me." Connor turned away to adjust the tightening of the mat against the saddle of the horse. "On whose watch did the brotherhood falter? Whose inaction allowed the Templar Order to grow so large that it now controls an entire nation!"

"If I sought to dissuade you," Achilles's tone had softened, but it was still as sharp as a whip. "It was because you knew nothing! If I was reluctant to contribute, it was because you were naïve. A thousand times you would have died and take God knows how many with you." As Connor mounted his horse, Achilles quickly grabbed the edge of the bridle to hold him back. "Let me tell you something, Connor: Life is not a fairy tale and there are no happy endings."

His last words confused me. Did he mean there would be no hope for a proper life once all of this was over? Would I be doomed to fight against these enemies for as long as I lived and breathed?

**"**No." Connor replied sharply. "Not when men like you are left in charge."

The old man shook his head. "In your haste to save the world, boy - take care you don't destroy it!"

He nodded and urged the horse onto the snowy path that would lead him to Valley Forge, where Washington and his soldiers were now staying. I ran down the rest of the steps and onto the path, following him for a few feet before stopping and watching him ride off into the forest. Sometimes I worried for that boy.

"Margaret!" A voice called from the distance. "Margaret!"

Looking up the pathway, I saw Maria, Ellen's daughter, running down the snowy path towards me. "Maria? What's wrong? Has something happened?"

She shook her head, her breathing heavy. "No! Everything's fine. My mother has an errand for you to run."

The two of us continued up the snowed-in path to Ellen's yellow house which sat by itself near the back of the property. Ellen was waiting for us outside, her shawl tied tightly around her shoulder. "Ah, Margaret, I thought you would have gone to battle with Connor?"

"No," I replied. "He's fighting this battle on his own."

"Was it his request?"

I nodded.

She nodded understandingly, knowing of our romance. "Well it's just as well. I need an errand run in Philadelphia."

"Philadelphia?" I questioned. That was at least a two-day ride from here. "What would you need that's there?"

"Not 'what'." Ellen replied, taking a small piece of parchment from the insides of her shawl. "But 'who'. I need you to visit an Elizabeth Ross and give her this letter. She was a good friend of mine, and we would supply each other silk, but since the move, I haven't had the chance to inform her. Do you mind?"

"Of course not, Ellen." I replied sticking the letter where it would not get blown over by the cold.

Ellen smiled in reply. "Thank you. You have no idea how much this will impact my work."

* * *

**TWO DAYS LATER,  
**

**Winter, 1777  
**

The road was long and dangerous to Pennsylvania. Daisy, no longer the young mare she had been when I had first received her at the beginning of the war, was growing older, and as such was growing slower and slower by the day. Fortunately, she still had enough energy to make the trek, and we arrived about two days later. The pure white horse blended in almost completely with the snow, and as I dismounted, I looked about at the cityscape. Tall buildings towered over me, and church spires could be seen from miles away. One such spire belonged to Independence Hall, where the Independence Declaration had been signed the previous year.

The streets were certainly lively. Large masses of patriot soldiers patrolled the streets, beating down on those Loyalists and British soldiers that they rarely found throughout the day. I pulled out the letter. On the top was an address written in Ellen's curved handwriting:

_Elizabeth Griscom Ross_

_239 Arch St, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania_

The house where Ross lived was small and compacted, but it looked about the same as the other buildings that lined the streets. I stepped up to the white door and knocked twice before stepping back. To my surprise, a girl much, much younger than me, about four or five, answered the door. "Yes?" She asked, her voice light.

"I'm here to see Elizabeth Ross. Is she home?"

The girl only turned back and called out, "Mama! There's someone here to see you!" Before closing the door slightly behind her.

I could hear two sets of footsteps, one most likely the younger girl, and the other she presumed to be Elizabeth. As if on cue, a woman with dark hair pushed back behind a mob cap answered the door. She didn't look much older than me. "Um, Elizabeth Ross?" I asked.

"Yes?" She replied.

"I'm here to deliver a letter from an Ellen-"

I didn't need to say more. As soon as Ellen's name came out of my mouth, she immediately ushered me inside. "Please, please come in Miss..."

"Cooper. Margaret Cooper." I replied, taking off my hat.

"Miss Cooper." Elizabeth nodded, motioning for me to sit down as she did so herself. "Pardon my rudeness, but you are very oddly dressed."

I laughed. "Oh, everyone tells me that. It's a part of what I do."

"What you do?"

"It helps the war efforts." I lied quickly. In retrospect, it wasn't much of a lie.

Elizabeth nodded. "Care for some tea?"

"Of course." I said politely, suddenly remembering my mother's many lessons on how to behave as a lady. I never imagined I would ever have to use them.

Elizabeth's daughter, Sarah, came in with the tea tray moments later, as though the girl herself had been prepared to do this every time a guest came to the house. As she was still a young girl, the tray wobbled and shook, and so I poured my own cup. There was no need to bother the girl with such a simple task. The young woman stirred her tea around with the spoon, taking me in all at once. "Do tell, how you came to be acquainted with Ellen?"

I looked up. "Oh, yes. She recently moved out of New York due to her husband's abuse, and found refuge on the Homestead where I reside."

"And where is this Homestead?"

"In the forests of Massachusetts."

"My," Elizabeth was in awe. "It must have been quite a journey."

"Indeed." I said, taking a sip of the tea. "Elizabeth-"

"Please." The woman raised her hand. "Call me Betsy."

I nodded. "Betsy. You seem quite young to already be raising a family."

She sipped her tea and then put it daintily back down on the plate, which she then laid down on the small table in front of us. "John and I eloped back in '73 in Gloucester. My family, members of the Society of Friends, immediately cut ties with me and expelled me from the congregation. Though I didn't mind, because I had John, which meant I wasn't going to be alone. Sarah came into our lives, and then the war came." Her eyes drooped, and her lip trembled. "He was...killed recently. A gunpowder explosion. We were only married for two years. I haven't told Sarah yet."

I looked down at my drink. So many people were being affected by the war, even those who shouldn't have been involved at all.

"Though...I have met another man recently." Betsy replied, seeing my uncomfortable state. "His name is Joseph. Joseph Ashburn. I don't think he could ever replace my beloved John..." She began to trail, and I was about to excuse myself when she jumped up. "Would you like to see something?"

Intrigued by the proposal, I nodded. Betsy Ross got up slowly from her chair and then led me into one of the smaller rooms towards the back of the house. After lighting one of the candles for a better view of the room, I saw what she had been reffering to. Draped over two chairs was a shimmer of red, white, and blue. It was the same one that had been seen at the Battle of Bunker Hill; the one that Connor had hung from the mast of the British ships after their defeat as a sign to General Putnam's troops; a sign of hope for a new day to dawn.

"I based it off a design that I saw flying around the market a few months ago. I've been told I should suggest it to Commander Washington himself as a possible flag for the new country. Isn't that amazing?" She said, looking at me before looking back to her masterpiece.

It truly was extraordinary. Seven red and six white created thirteen unified stripes, and in the top left-hand corner of the flag was a blue square where thirteen more stars combined to create a circle. Thirteen original colonies, now all unified under one new government. It was a stroke of genius that Betsy had managed to create it. "Truly. It truly is amazing. It's like a star-spangled banner." I replied.

"Star-Spangled Banner?" Betsy said slowly. "I like that name. Perhaps I'll call it that. What I originally had in mind was 'The Stars and Stripes'. A bit on the unoriginal side, but still a good name nonetheless."

"Both are decent names. I think you should speak to Commander Washington about it. See what he says."

"You really think so?" Betsy's eyes widened.

I nodded. "I do."

I was, unfortunately, unable to spend any more time with Betsy, as I had to be returning to the Homestead in order to see to Achilles and find out if there was any word from Connor about the state of Washington's troops and the coming troubles. As I walked toward the post where Daisy was tied down, I was caught off-guard as a massive hand clutched my mouth and roughly pulled me into one of the alleyways. I didn't recognize any of these men, and none of them wore British uniforms. They spoke all at once, and my head was reeling. But my eyesight focused on one thing in particular; a cross dangled from the neck of one of the men...a Templar cross.

Then, I saw and felt nothing.

* * *

**A.N.**

**HAH! Did I scare you into thinking this story was dead? I think I scared myself XD**

**Yeah, don't worry, I still have muse. I've just been busy with final exams and SOLs and the like for the past two weeks, but it's finally over! Expect more soon, and don't hesitate to drop a review letting me know how I'm doing!**

**~Val**


	21. Seq 5 - Mem 2 - Like Father, Like Son

**MEMORY 2:**

_**Like Father, Like Son**_

**ONE MONTH LATER...**

**NEW YORK,**

**December, 1777**

The brutality of the Templars is unrelenting. Apparently, my own father had been searching for me since the day of the fire all those years ago, and now he finally had me. I had lost track of time by this point. How long had I been away? Did the Assassins know where I was? Were they coming to find me? All I thought of was Achilles on the Homestead by himself...and what Connor would think when he returned home. I did not want to think about what he would do.

Despite being his prisoner, my father saw that I was well taken care of, but for what reason I didn't know. Did he plan to kill me once the time was right, and I was useless? Or did he have some other scheme in mind that would tear down the Assassins. It was right when I came to that thought that I realized that my father could use me to get to Connor. Thankfully, he had never asked about him, and so I remained silent.

About a month after my capture in Philadelphia, I was greeted once again by none other than William Cooper; one who I used to call 'father'. He had come to visit me every week or so, to see how I was, and to try and pry more information off of him. They had taken me to somewhere in New York, where my father was secretly working with Benjamin Church to smuggle out supplies. "How are you this morning, Margaret?"

He had grown older since I had last seen him. He now had a wrinkled brow, and bits of gray could be seen in his darker blond hair. But his eyes were the same; the same deep brown that she had seen that night he had abandoned his family. For that, I would never forgive him. Looking up into those eyes for one brief moment, I turned away. Never.

William Cooper sighed and sat down on one of the stools in my room. "Please, Margaret, I only wish to talk."

"Hmph," I scoffed.

The Templar sighed lightly and scratched the back of his neck. "I _am_ sorry for what I did to you. To Maria. To little Marie and Frederick-"

"You don't even deserve the breath you need to say their names." I snapped coldly. This was the first time I had spoken to him since the first week when his men had beaten me to the point of speaking.

He glanced up at me. "I know. I cowardly attempted to leave you-"

"Leave!?" I roared. "You wanted to kill all of us! Not just me, but Mother, Marie, and Frederick as well! What had they done? You should've punished me and Mother, but left them alone!"

He blinked slowly. I had struck a nerve with him. Good; he deserved it. The blood was pounding in my ears, and I could feel them heating up quickly. Never had I yelled at my father in this tone back in Boston, but here...this man in front of me was not my father. My father would never have done the things this man had done.

William Cooper stood up slowly and went towards my door. He put his hand around the latch before turning slightly back to me and whispering, "I never wanted to hurt any of you," before slowly and quietly opening and shutting the door again.

I buried my face in my hands and wept.

* * *

**Late Evening,  
**

"Get up!" A rough voice called out in the darkness, banging on the door.

I blinked my eyes open slowly. My evening meal had been given to me what felt like two hours ago, and the moon was reaching it's midpoint in the night sky. How late was it, exactly?

"Get up, I said!" The voice repeated, more agitated this time.

Turning over, I groaned to let them know that I was awake. "Where are we going?"

"To see some friends." The man replied.

Friends? Friends of _who_ exactly? I didn't bother to reply. I'd find out soon enough. Finishing my dressing by placing my tri-corn hat atop my head, I stood at the door. It creaked open, and more darkness poured in. I felt a hand on my back and immediately stepped out into the hall to avoid being pushed face-down on the ground. That had already happened before. Dim candlelight guided our path as I was led out down the hall towards the main storage area. Why were they taking me here at this time of night? Shouldn't I be sleeping and getting my rest for yet another day of interrogation.

But once we stopped outside the door, I could hear a voice coming from the other side. "Benjamin Church. You stand accused of betraying the Templar Order and abandoning our principles in pursuit of personal gain. In consideration of your crime, I hereby sentence you to DEATH." It was British, and had a certain type of authority that made a shiver run up my spine.

But then I remembered. Church had left a few days ago to sail to Martinique.

"Now!" A second voice cried, and I felt my guard's arm grip me tightly. Whoever was the on the other side, they didn't want me to get away in the process of confronting them. But I had another idea in mind. "You're too late. Church and the cargo are long gone. Now you be good boys, now, or else..."

I suppose that had been the cue, because as soon as the words left his lips, the door in front of me was pushed open, and I was guided into the room. Almost immediately my reaction was to struggle against the man and try to run, but his hold was strong, and I was powerless against him. He tugged me to the the middle where he then held me still and I looked up. My eyes immediately grew and my breathing seemed to stop. He was dressed differently that I had last seen him, but I knew it was him; Connor. But who was the second man? The two looked extremely alike. No...could it have possibly been...Haytham Kenway; Grand Master of the Templar Order!?

My father was standing next to a man in a powdered wig, who was obviously supposed to be disguised as Benjamin Church. He turned and ran his fingers over my cheek and waved a curled, blond strand away, obviously toying with Connor. Rage was written all over his face by this point. "But I'm afraid you won't be in any condition to follow..."

My father pulled me out of the way while the others jumped Connor and Haytham, most likely intending to trap them here with me. "No! Let go of me!" I shouted, trying to pry my way out.

"Behave yourself, Margaret." Cooper replied calmly, as though he was handling a caterpillar running across the palm of his hand. "You'll see your friend soon."

"I said, let go!" I shouted before finally getting the chance to tug my hands out of his grip and turn around just in time to kick him in the chest, knocking him down.

The man from before, seeing Cooper's dilemma, immediately turned away from attacking Connor to handle me himself. Connor then threw himself onto the man, grabbing him and pulling him down. "Margaret, run!" He said, struggling to hold the soldier down.

I instantly obeyed and picked myself up, heading for the door again before I noticed that I was no longer in any danger. All of the men were now rolling around on the floor in pain. My father, thankfully, was unconscious. Connor nodded to me before turning back to the man disguised as Benjamin Church, who was lying on his stomach. The Assassin knelt down next to him and asked, "Where is Church?"

"I'll tell you. Anything you want. Only promise that you'll let me live." The man begged, pleading to the Native.

Connor hesitated for a moment by glancing over towards his father, who nodded approvingly, before helping the man up. "You have my word."

"He left yesterday for Martinique. Took passage on a trading sloop called the Welcome. Loaded half its hold with the supplies he stole from the Patriots. That's all I know. I swear." And that was when Haytham took the opportunity, from behind, to stab the man right between the shoulders. Both of my hands flew to cover up my mouth, and Connor was just as shocked as I was. "You promised," were his last words before crashing to the ground.

"And HE kept his word." Haytham replied, looking over at his son. "Let's go."

Before the two could make their way over to me on the other side of the Brewery, three men with muskets ran out onto the platforms above us. Connor immediately pushed his father down with him behind some crates, while I took shelter behind one of the thick wooden columns. There was split moment of silence before the guns fired, and then there was a massive explosion from behind me. Instantly, I screamed. The platforms above rained down, and for a moment I thought I was going to be buried beneath the rubble. The fires started simultaneously as the falling debris ended. Smoke filled my lungs, and I coughed.

"Margaret!" I heard Connor shout. "Margaret, where are you!?"

I waved my arms and stepped out. We were both being blocked from each other by burning wood. "Here! I'm here, Connor, I'm here!"

"I'm going to come get you!"

"No!" I shouted. "You get Haytham and yourself out of here! There's no way we can get past the fires!"

"I'm not leaving you behind!" Connor called back.

"I know!" I replied. "And you won't be! I'll find another way around! I'll meet you outside!"

"Stay safe!"

"You too!"

I watched as Connor led Haytham up to the platforms above me, while I turned around and tried to find something to jimmy the wooden post that was blocking the door. The smoke was quickly influencing my ability to see and move my arms. All around me was foggy haze of grays, oranges, yellows, and reds. The heat was slowly rising, and my coughing began to persist. Instantly, I was reminded of the fire in my own home; the smoke rising from beneath the floorboards and flooding through cracks in the walls. The feeling that I was going to suffocate or burn to death rose up from those memories and began to take control. I shook them away just as quickly. I had to focus.

Finally, I felt the post move and I was able to push it out. The two wooden doors opened instantly, letting the smoke and flames fly free onto the streets of New York. I collapsed onto the ground, coughing as a result of the battle between the oxygen and carbon dioxide in the air for control of my lungs. Thankfully, the oxygen came on top the winner.

Once my vision and mind had cleared, I immediately searched the other ends of the building, but Connor and Haytham were nowhere to be seen. They couldn't...they couldn't have still been inside...could they? No. I shook the thought immediately from my head. They were alive. They had to be. A splash from the other side of the Brewery reached my ears and I took off running down the streets towards the waterfront. When I turned the corner, there they were, drying themselves off.

"Connor!" I said, alerting them to my presence.

He looked up and his face seemed to relax. A month ago, that face was tense and nervous as to what he would say to the Commander once he reached Valley Forge, but now...now he was here, and he was mine. I started out at a slow walk before turning it into a jog, where at the end, I was met by Connor's open arms, and I ran right into them, happy that he was alive and safe.

"Church has at least a day on us..." Haytham Kenway didn't hesitate to break up our reunion abruptly and nonchalantly. "We must move quickly if we're to catch him."

"I have a ship we can use." Connor replied. I looked up at him. He was going to go away again? "Meet me on the pier when you're ready." With me under his arm, we strode off down the waterfront towards the streets.

"You're leaving again?" I said once we were out of earshot.

He didn't look at me. Perhaps he knew what was going through my mind. "It will not be long."

"And how do I know that?" I stopped, forcing him to halt in his tracks.

Connor turned to me and looked me right in the eyes. "Have I never come back?"

"No."

He didn't say anything else, but waited until I was ready to keep going that we made the journey back to the Homestead.

* * *

**A.N.**

**What the heck is it with these chapters getting 2,000+ words now!? I mean seriously! XD Oh well. Words are words.**

**And I know I just updated this...but school's almost out for me, and for summer, that weekly update will probably cease to be anyway XD**

**~Val**


	22. Seq 5 - Mem 3 - Lone Horizons

**MEMORY 3:**

_**Lone Horizons**_

**DAVENPORT HOMESTEAD,**

**January, 1778**

The basement desk was now cluttered with pieces of information from Connor's search, but it was still in good shape. I was hunched over, the quill flying away on the parchment. Letters had become my friend since Connor and Haytham had left on the Aquila weeks ago to chase down Benjamin Church and finally return the missing supplies to the Continental Army. Of course, I still didn't trust the man. I would probably never trust him as much as I trusted his son. Achilles thought that Connor was visiting Martinique for an errand. He was still unaware, as far as we knew, that Connor had even had contact with his father. I felt horrible lying to Achilles, but if I had told him the truth, he would have chased them down himself.

I dropped the quill back into the black ink, the feather bobbing up and down from the force. I took the sheet of parchment and moved the candle closer so that I could read back what I had written.

_Connor,_

_It had been almost twenty-four days since you and Haytham left to find Church, and I have received nothing from you. It is not that I intend to hear from you, due to the lack of postal service at sea, but I find myself hoping that a letter will come addressed to me and informing me that you...and your father are all right._

_I haven't been completely honest with you. I do not entirely trust your father. I honestly don't even know if you yourself trust him at all. I can see why you would, him being your father and all, but he is the Grand Master of the Templar Order; our sworn enemy! Do you think he would try to kill you if he had the chance? It pains me to even bring up that subject._

_All is well here on the Homestead. Achilles suspects nothing of me, unless he has already figured out your plan. Myriam and Norris continue to plan for their wedding. They have requested that I serve as the Maid of Honor for the special day. I was thrilled, and immediately accepted. The two also have a proposal for you as well, but they will tell you once you return. It's such a happy occasion, weddings. And amidst all this time of war, I feel as though it is an appropriate occasion; one day of happiness and celebration in a time of hatred and death._

_Everyone else on the Homestead misses you as well, and pray that you have a safe return. Just don't bring Haytham as a guest. Achilles would not see kindly to that._

_God bless you in your travels,_

_Margaret_

* * *

**A.N.**

**And just when I think I'm going to be active I take a two-week break.**

**Never listen to the voice inside my head again. X3**

**Read + Review!**

**~Val**


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